


Seven Tasks for my Alpha

by Purplefootprint



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Awkward situations, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, First Time, M/M, Pretty 3B compliant but read it before season 4 is out!, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, Sort of AU but not, Wet Dream, nudity outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 79,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplefootprint/pseuds/Purplefootprint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to save Beacon Hills against an opponent they have no chance of defeating, our beloved pack needs to perform a quite particular ritual to enhance Scott's power. So far so good, except that this ritual is a sex ritual and guess who are the lucky ones to do it? ^_^ It's their best chance, so Derek and Stiles have to take the proverbial bullet for the world. Okay, maybe Stiles wouldn't be taking a bullet, but you get the picture. However, in order to make sure things work out well, Deaton makes them live together for a week - the week before the final battle - and complete a task each day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Selection

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this will be a slow build, but hopefully it will pay off! I myself, normally don't read fics that don't deliver in the first chapter, but I had this idea going round and round in my head and wouldn't let me study, work or even read fanfics in peace. And no one messes with fanfic-reading-time. So I decided to write it out of my head, and look what it grew into!
> 
> I'd like to thank my incredible, talented, patient and wonderful beta readers, fuckingdarkstiles and shotahunter for taking the trouble of reading each chapter and dealing with my nagging and demanding and "but tell me, is this paragraph exactly what Derek would do?". Well, all that attention to canon, reading loads of fanfics, checking the eps carefully only to have 3B trample on my perfectly designed work.
> 
> Both fuckingdarkstiles and shotahunter have a much superior manage of English than I do, so whatever mistake left in the fanfic is mine... specially because they may have told me to change something and yet I still got stubborn and kept it because "it doesn't sound right for me". Yeah, I did that. Once. Anything else that could be seen as a typo or lack of space-key, I'll just blame on my operative system and Mercury Retrograde.
> 
> Now, the plan is that I'll post one episode each day, on the night of each day (and I live in the Western Hemisphere, so yeah, deal with it), posting the last one the night before the beginning of season 4. That will give me at least a 24 hour window of still being quite canon, or as canon as "canon" allows to be stretched. It will be, thus, 9 chapters starting right now.

Most people would say that misfortune follows the Hales – particularly Derek – but Stiles knew that Scott and he were quite powerful magnets for all sorts of trouble. His dad and Ms. McCall could testify abundantly about that. Because it wasn’t enough that they both already got in trouble all the time, but Scott got bitten by a werewolf and became one, started dating the daughter of a hunter, who happened to be a hunter herself too, and Lydia Martin, who would always be dating someone else, ignoring his feelings for her, turned out to be emotionally unbalanced and a banshee. Then, when Scott and Allison broke, who did he start dating? Kira, a kitsune. Because God forbid he would date a normal, next door, human girl. Oh, and they were friends with Derek Hale, who didn’t see them as his friends, but who still kept them busy with added trouble such as a Kanima on the loose – as if Jackson weren’t already a pain in the ass, just as human – a pack of brand new wolves with personality issues – and let’s start here with Erica, who had been really a piece of work -, and two mass murdering, crazy ex-girlfriends – okay, one dangerous ex-girlfriend and a REALLY dangerous ex-girlfriend, who happened to be their English teacher. But if that wasn’t enough – because maybe it wasn’t – two of their friends died – yes, the loss of Erica and Boyd was felt by everyone, not only Derek – then he got possessed by a Nogitsune – and hello! That should rank really high up there – and on top of everything, they lost Allison too. So yes, if Derek Hale thought he had it cut for himself, he should really check the scorecard because Scott and Stiles were winning them all.

Of course, Scott becoming an Alpha only added to the problems, because yes, it did turn out that the Alpha pack was after Scott, not Derek, but once that got disbanded and Derek was no longer an Alpha, life had to throw their way a nasty curve ball after nasty curve ball. Yes, let’s stop here for a moment and remember the Nogitsune trouble. It was horrible. Stiles literally lost his mind thanks to the monster, was made hurt the people he loved the most, KILL people - to death, as he pointed out once to Jackson – and he saw death as close as never before. Hell, he got closer to death than he has ever gotten to Scott, or even closer than he ever dreamed getting to Lydia. 

But all that wasn’t enough, because trouble loves Beacon Hills and seeks to hang around Scott and Stiles when it happens by, and so, after the Nogitsune, it came again bearing nasty gifts. It was so nasty, that if Deucalion thought he was the Demon Wolf, he should really meet Castor, a vicious monster who could be easily called King of Hell. Even the Nogistune would have trouble competing with him. Then, with no other Alpha in the area as appealing as the True Alpha – namely Scott – Castor decided that he wanted whatever power he had. 

After much talking over the issue and getting nowhere, they – namely the wolves and the human team (okay, that currently meant Stiles only, though he liked to count Lydia as part of that team as well, just for the fact that she wasn’t any were-thing) – decided to run it through Deaton, who told them what they already knew: they had no chance.

„But there has to be a way!” Scott insisted.

Deaton thought for a moment.

„Well,” he finally said, „there is a way in which you can get some extra power temporarily, that could help you get a chance at facing Castor, but you would have to work very carefully with it, have a very good strategy – a flawless plan.”

„Then we should do that!” Scott said.

Derek rolled his eyes, because it seemed that it took a teen to become a true alpha to believe that he’s Superman.

„And how do we do that?” Stiles asked preparing for the twelve labors of Hercules, as usual. Derek looked at the hyperactive teen with contempt. Why couldn’t he just sit out of the way? Couldn’t he see that he added more to the problem than to the solution?

„Sex magic,” Deaton said.

Everybody in the room paid attention. From all of them only Scott was grinning.

„And how does that work?”

„Evidently through sex,” explained Deaton. „Scott must have ritual sex with someone close to him with whom he shares a particular bond that allows them both to share life energy. Through sex magic its qualities heighten, strengthen and are temporarily transferred to Scott, who then can use this added power to fight against Castor.”

„It sounds good,” Stiles smiled at Scott, who was grinning in advance at the chance to get laid.

Deaton looked at Scott and then around everybody, measuring up their reaction before fishing out a large jar full of something that looked like Mountain Ash. He carefully scooped some of it and poured it on a tray.

„Mountain ash?” Stiles asked.

„No,” replied Deaton, turning to look at the teen „it’s a blend of different herbs and powder from very powerful tree barks and roots.”

„Nemethon?” the curious teen asked.

Deaton smiled at him.

„No,” he replied „but there are many powerful trees just like it.”

He moved the dark powder around the tray until it lay perfectly flat. He took out other jars, from which sprinkled a little of this and that, holding his hands over the tray and meditating or praying over it. Once this part was over, he directed Scott to one end of the tray and asked him to hold his hand over the tray, bearing his wrist. The powder seemed to jump and move as if it were water, as if it were alive.

„This blend reveals connections between people,” he explained „we will be looking for the person with the best, strongest link and also the best type energy signature to be transferred through the ritual.”

His eyes immediately fell on Derek. He held out his hand for him and the wolf approached. Scott’s eyes widened, admittedly a bit scared about what sex would be like if he turned out to be the person he needed to have sex with for the ritual. Not for a moment he doubted that if Derek was to be his partner, he not only would be on the receiving end, but he wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.

„Hold your wrist over the tray.”

Looking at Scott with a somewhat feral stare, Derek held his wrist over the tray. The sandy substance suddenly jumped up hitting their wrists and going past them, caressing their wrists while a gap formed between them, as if part of the substance chose to go with Derek and another decided to go with Scott. The whole substance detached from the tray, floating around their wrists as if it were black fire. Deaton’s eyes widened and then touched their forearms so that they would retrieve them. The substance fell back in the tray, soft and flat as if never had moved.

„Sad,” he said „it would have been a perfect transfer if there were a link.”

One by one, starting with the next strongest wolf, everybody held their wrist over the tray. The substance mostly jumped up to the center of the wrists forming then a bridge between Scott and the other person. Sometimes the powder nearly formed cuffs, but Deaton wasn’t pleased because not all the powder rose from the tray. When Kira failed the test, Scott seemed saddened. Then, when Stiles held his wrist over the tray, the substance jumped up and twisted around their wrists and up their forearms like a silky snake until the whole powder lifted from the tray.

„I guess it’s you and me,” Scott smiled.

Stiles smiled back. Well, they were so close to one another that many thought they slept together, and that didn’t bother them. Now they would live out the rumors about them.

„I guess we are making out after all,” Stiles smiled „and you’ll take care of my virginity.”

Scott laughed.

„What are friends for?”

They were moving from the tray, the matter falling back, when Deaton stopped them.

„But all the powder lifted up from the tray with Stiles,” Scott pointed out.

„It did,” Deaton said „which means that you two have a very, very strong connection that allows a perfect transfer.”

„Isn’t that what we were looking for?” Stiles asked.

Deaton smiled one of his enigmatic smiles, signaling Stiles to get back to the tray. When Scott was going to do the same, the vet held his hand out stopping him.

„Let me try something out.”

Stiles suddenly looked a bit apprehensive. Things got even worse when Deaton signaled Derek to step closer, this time standing where Scott had been.

„You know the drill,” Deaton stepped back.

Stiles had no idea what Deaton expected to happen. If there was no connection between Scott and Derek, there certainly wouldn’t be any between him and the former alpha. And there was Derek, looking at him like he wanted to turn him into road kill. Breathing deep, he held his wrist over the tray and the werewolf did the same. The stuff swirled once on the tray and then started pouring upwards to their wrists, rolling around them. The powder was quickly forming sand flames around Derek’s wrist, while it coiled rolling around Stiles. Flames and ribbons reached out, extended forming a bridge between them and as the last grain of the soft powder elevated from the tray, the stuff seemed to slide back and forth between the two of them until flame like ribbons slid between their fingers, circled around their wrists and stretched towards their forearms.

„That’s a perfect and strong transfer,” Deaton said.

Stiles retrieved his arm quickly as if he had touched fire making the powder fall back suddenly to the tray and lay flat and still.

„But I thought it was about increasing Scott’s power,” Stiles said unable to hide the hint of desperation in his voice.

„It is,” Deaton said putting a hand on his shoulder „and we will still make it so,” he explained.

He looked at Scott and then at the other two.

„This ritual can be performed by Scott and Stiles to work,” he said „however, the kind of power that Stiles and Derek can raise is much higher, much stronger,” his eyes went from one to the next. „The kind of connection Scott and Stiles share allows for the power Derek can lend be transferred from Stiles to Scott.”

Stiles didn’t dare to guess, and nor did Scott. Derek probably didn’t care.

„How?” Stiles asked

Deaton smiled.

„You and Derek would perform the ritual. Scott collects the power.”

„So,” Stiles elaborated „instead of having this magic sex with Scott...” he looked at Deaton to make sure he was right „it would be with Derek.”

Deaton nodded.

„It would be our best chance,” he said „but if you are not okay with it, we will proceed with the original plan of you and Scott.”

„You really don’t have to,” Scott put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

Stiles nodded mostly to himself and then looked at Deaton.

„I’m in,” he said „I’ll do it... if Derek agrees as well.”

The former alpha eyed him hiding well how surprised he was Stiles would agree. He looked at Deaton and lifted a little his head signaling thus his agreement. Not like he had actually much choice after Stiles jumping in head first. Showing his disagreement – however justified – would make him the obstacle in the plan, and he couldn’t allow himself to be the reason for a probable solution to be halted because he had reservations about who he had to work with. The vet nodded.

„Then it’s settled,” he smiled „you’ll perform the ritual.”

Stiles looked at Derek, who only looked at him for a moment, and then looked away. Was it wise? How would they do this if Derek wouldn’t even talk to him?

Later on, when all were gone, Deaton called them to talk to them privately.

„The connection between you two is strong and it’s there, but we need to work a few things out.”

Well, that wasn’t a secret, Stiles thought while he nodded.

„The full moon will be in a week, and I suspect that’s when Castor probably plans to attack, so we need to act fast.” Deaton made sure both of them understood.

„We will do this on the night of the full moon,” Stiles stated mostly to be sure he understood well.

„That’s when Scott and I are stronger.”

„Yeah!” Stiles turned to Derek „And when you could rip me into pieces!”

„But that won’t happen,” Deaton said quickly „however we can’t have any failure during the ritual.”

He eyed them in that very teacher like way that usually made Stiles shrug.

„No bickering, no insecurities, no passive lying or trying to distance yourself from it... in order to work ritual sex must be fluent, especially because many things will be involved, not only pleasure.”

This last part surprised Stiles. Pleasure? Well yes, sex implied pleasure, but the thought of enjoying sex with Derek seemed strange to him. Not that he thought Derek was bad in bed, but since the ritual wasn’t happening with Scott, he assumed it would be something more functional. And he wouldn’t spend too much time analyzing why he thought that yes, he would probably enjoy sex with his best friend. No, he would not go there. As of now.

„We will need to strengthen your personal relationship.”

To Deaton’s amusement, both the teen and the werewolf did exactly the same wide-eye expression of surprise.

„In a week?” Stiles asked surprised.

Deaton nodded.

„There’s a small house where I want you two to live for the next week,” he said giving Derek the keys. „It’s really small, so take with yourselves only what you really need for the week,” he instructed them. „You must eat together at the place at least once a day and must share the only bed there is,” he eyed them to make sure they understood he wasn’t joking about it. „Not taking turns,” he warned them „you must sleep together in the same bed.”

He waited until they both nodded their agreement, his eyes fixed on them making sure no joke was made, no complain was voiced.

„I’ll also e-mail you a daily task you must complete. We can’t afford to lose the power you two could raise, so there should be no slacking with any of the rules,” he eyed them severely. „If you can’t or won’t do it, you must tell me now, so I can concentrate on preparing you and Scott,” he looked at Stiles at the end.

Stiles looked at Derek. The werewolf was looking at him this time, less feral and slightly more approachable.

„We will complete the tasks,” Derek said.

Deaton smiled and gave him the address to the house he would share for a week with Stiles. The vet helped the teen explaining to Sheriff Stilinski that his son and volunteered to a wolf project and would be sleeping „at the project” for a week. Stiles marveled at the way Deaton easily talked to his dad, hid the truth from him and yet didn’t actually lie.

After that he went home, grabbed his backpack, the books he would need for school, his laptop and threw in a duffel bag a couple of trousers, some t-shirts, his lacrosse uniform, and underwear. He made sure to leave his dad a healthy dinner, hide all the snacks and leave him a note about what to eat and to please keep up on the diet.

Saying that the house where they would spend a week was small was the understatement of the century. Derek’s Camaro was already parked under the rickety porch-like construction that extended from the equally rickety looking roof. Stiles pulled the jeep up the small driveway that led to what probably intended to be the garage. In front of the house was a small yard full of overgrown weed, fallen leaves and some broken branches, giving it a creepy look. He walked to the front door, where he knocked letting himself in.

„Hello! Derek?”

There was no reply, but as he peaked in, he saw the wolf checking the cupboard at the tiny kitchen. The wolf looked at him and then went back to inventorying what could be found. Stiles twisted his mouth and entered the house closing the door behind him. In a few steps he found himself already in the middle of the place furnished with the basics. A couch, a TV on a coffee table pressed against the wall because it wouldn’t fit any other way, a small table with two mismatched chairs and a kitchen so small it would be crowded with two people.

„Well, Deaton wasn’t lying when he said it was small.”

Derek closed the cabinet he was inspecting and looked at the teen.

„Bedroom and bathroom that way,” he directed him.

Stiles blinked once and went in the direction he was pointed. Then he saw how small the place really was. The bedroom had a double bed where Derek would fit well if he didn’t have to share it with Stiles. At the same time, that barely two-people bed took pretty much all the space on the bedroom. There was a simple nightstand at each side and a built in closet. Derek’s leather jacket laid at the foot of the side facing the window, and a book had been put on the nightstand on that side. Stiles couldn’t resist the curiosity of checking out the book, so he dropped his stuff at the foot of the bed and silently went around the bed looking out of the door and then picking up the book. It was some sort of Sci-Fi novel, pretty worn, probably from a used bookstore. It still amazed Stiles to discover that Derek did nerdy stuff like read Sci-Fi books instead of devoting all of his time to train and do werewolf things.

The small built in closet already had some of Derek’s clothes in, neatly folded or hanged, pressed to one side. Stiles had nothing to hang, so he took his few clothes and put them on a free shelve, underwear at the back, and threw the duffle on the floor of the closet. He took his toothbrush and razor to the bathroom which was even smaller. No cabinet, only a small, cracked mirror before a tiny sink, a toilet and a tiny shower. There were caskets much roomier than that shower.

„Well,” Stiles muttered to himself „no sex in the shower.”

When he returned to the main room, Derek had finished checking everything in the kitchen and was sitting at the table looking through the window, lost in thought.

„Want me to get your leash and take you out for a walk?” Stiles joked.

Derek looked at him annoyed and then went back to look at the window.

„Come on, man,” Stiles occupied the only other chair available „say something!”

Derek looked at him again without even turning his head and went back to the window. He was a hard case.

„We are going to live together for a week,” he insisted „we should start to work on this communication thing, don’t you think?”

Nothing.

„Derek?”

Nothing. Stiles leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms before himself.

„Whatever is out there, it can’t possibly be that interesting.”

Derek sighed, finally looking at him.

„Don’t you have homework to do?”

„Already did it,” Stiles beamed „See? Talking? It’s not so hard.”

Derek eyed him before getting up.

„I’m going out.”

„Be home for dinner!” Stiles called after him.

The wolf went to the bedroom to grab his jacket while Stiles moved to the couch and turned out the TV checking if there was something good. The wolf passed next to him clad in his leather jacket and got out of the door. Stiles smirked knowing and couldn’t wipe that smirk in time as seconds after the wolf walked back through the door. Stiles held out the keys of his car.

„You can take mine,” he offered.

The wolf pondered the offer for a moment, but then went back to the bedroom, from which he emerged without the jacket, and sat on the couch next to the teen, looking at the TV. They sit there, Stiles wanting to talk, because that’s what he really felt like doing, and Derek wanting to be alone, so after a while Derek decided that taking a walk was better than staring at the dumb box. As the wolf went back for his jacket and out the door again, Stiles’ heart sunk wondering if they made the right choice. There was some movie on the TV but he couldn’t concentrate on it as he thought how they have a week until the full moon, how he will have to sleep with Derek „Poor Attitude” Hale. He sulked a little on his own, but then called his best friend in the whole world and talked for a while about nothing and everything.

„How are things with Derek?” Scott asked carefully.

Stiles sighed.

„Difficult, but then everything with him is that way.”

Scott thought for a moment before speaking again.

„Look,” he said „you really don’t have to put up with Derek. If there’s a link between you and I and it would work, we can do that.”

Stiles smiled.

„You can have me after this thing is over,” he joked and could hear Scott laughing hard at the other side.

They talked some more, and Stiles wondered why couldn’t things be also like that with Derek. He turned off the TV and surveyed the kitchen checking what was available for dinner. To his dismay, there was absolutely nothing in the kitchen that would be thrown in the microwave and heated, or popped in the toaster or anything that would simply need to be unpacked, heated and eaten.

„Oh man!”

Truth was that Stiles was very good at research, and next to Deaton had been proving to be quite okay with the handling of magical elements, preparing wards and some basic spells, but when it came to cooking skills he was lost. So what could he do with flour, a can of tomato paste or a potato? Well, maybe he could try and cut the potato into fries and fry them. But how many potatoes he needed to cut to get a serving? He grabbed a couple of large potatoes, peeled them the best he could and cut them. He didn’t expect the starchy liquid sipping from them, and so soon the fries he had cut were turning brown and looking ugly. When he had a handful of them, he washed them the best he could. Then he filled a pot with cooking oil and waited for it to heat. However, after five minutes he got tired of waiting, especially because the oil didn’t boil like water, so he decided to throw in the fries. Without warning he hot oil jumped up with a big noise and chased Stiles out of the kitchen.

„Oh my God!” he grabbed his head desperate at the nuclear war wasteland look the kitchen was taking.

Of course Derek had to walk in right at the moment, green eyes widening as he saw what his now roommate was doing.

„What are you doing?”

„Fries?” ventured the teen.

Derek looked at him with eyes wide in disbelieve. He then ran to the kitchen where there were half fried fries on the doors of the cabinets and on the floor. He took the pot from the heat and surveyed the place. It looked bad. He shook his and looked at the teen.

„Come and clean this up.”

Stiles did as he was told, eyes cast down in shame. Between the two of them they cleaned up the mess and then disposed of the oil and the ruined fries.

„You can’t cook?” Derek asked him with a tone that though it was upset, it wasn’t hurtful.

„Not really, no,” Stiles admitted.

„Then why did you even try?”

„Because I thought it wouldn’t be that hard,” the teen said „besides there’s nothing I could heat. It’s all stuff you have to make from scratch.”

Once the kitchen was clean, Derek turned to the cabinets, pulled out a couple of things and prepared pasta in twenty minutes. He served it in two plates which he gave to Stiles to take to the table while he fished out something to drink.

„Thank you,” Stiles said feeling stupid.

„Just eat,” Derek replied „it’s part of our tasks.”

They ate in silence and Stiles made sure not to bother the wolf again – for the rest of the day. Derek enjoyed the silence, though he had to admit that he missed the endless chatter of the teen, and it kind of felt odd that he wasn’t making noise. However he kept that to himself, for it was better to miss the noise than being exposed to the endless chatter itself.

Going to bed became a test even greater than cooking. They had to take turns to brush their teeth or even to reach into the closet for something, but when they were done, they both climbed quietly under the covers, strictly sticking to their own sides. Stiles switched off the light and Derek switched on the old, thin table lamp of the nightstand.

„I read in bed,” he said already covered up to his waist, book in hand „does it bother you?”

Stiles shook his head.

„No, go ahead.”

The bed was lumpy, the pillow flat and he couldn’t find his position. He turned once, then twice, then again but the mattress wasn’t cooperating. The bed seemed to sink towards the center, and he was afraid he would end up sprawled across the wolf in one of his world famous strange sleeping positions. At one point he found a good position and everything seemed nice, but as he relaxed into it, his body slipped and his ass pressed against Derek. So again, no go.

„Stop it,” the wolf muttered clearly losing his patience.

„I will, I will,” he promised.

He pulled to the very edge of the bed and curled up there. The position wasn’t the best, but it was okay, so he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Of course that was easier thought than done, as his head was still rolling over and over about the chain of events that had led him to this improbable situation. He dutifully mulled over the fact that he could have been doing this with Scott, though probably he wouldn’t need to move in with Scott because they had a nice, healthy friendship that had been made evident in the strong bond they shared. The thing with Derek... well, that he couldn’t explain. He did had to admit that he cared for the sour wolf, and though he still scared the living bejeezus out of him, it scared him even more to see him hurt or cold out. Also, lately if he saw the sourwolf sad, it made him sad and he felt compelled to do something to make him feel better. All of which only piled up now that he nearly destroyed the kitchen, and relied on Derek cooking him dinner. He resolved he would pick up some cooking lessons even if he had to go by YouTube.

Derek lowered his book and sighed.

„The light doesn’t bother me,” Stiles looked over his shoulder. „You don’t have to stop reading on my account.”

„Your constant moving is bothering me,” the wolf pointed out.

„Oh,” Stiles rolled to his back, popping on his elbows at once „sorry.”

„Are you going to stay still at some point or are you going to keep rolling all night?”

Stiles twisted his lips.

„I can’t sleep,” he said quietly. „There are too many things to think about.”

„Put them aside,” the wolf replied „it’s not like you can solve them now.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and laid down again, turning his back to the wolf.

„Easier said than done.”

There was a moment of silence and then Stiles heard Derek read up. With eyes wide open, he turned to face the wolf, who effectively started to read his book aloud. Not once he turned to look at him, but as he read, Stiles rolled to face him and hear him better. Much of the plot was hard to follow – as it would with any good Sci Fi novel you happen to catch in the middle of, not knowing anything from the universe it was written from, but the steady voice of Derek, the way the story was written caught him quickly.

As the story went on and on, his eyes slid from nowhere to Derek’s arms and then to his hands holding the book. In a week’s time those hands should be on him, in ways that were not meant to hurt him. Would it really work? What would it be like? What would he think after it? What would he feel after it? What would happen in a week?

Derek started reading aloud to distract the teen and keep him from tossing and turning. Much to his satisfaction it worked right away. He kept reading soon forgetting the teen was next to him, thus not noticing when he stopped reading aloud and sunk again in the depths of the book. It wasn’t until he felt a soft snort and a little movement that he realized the teen had fallen asleep peacefully next to him.

He put the book aside and turned off the lamp sliding down in bed. In the darkness, he studied the ceiling reviewing the situation he was in. Here he was, having lost his status of Alpha, but not regretting it as it had helped heal Cora. He had lost his pack and nearly lost whatever “friends” he had. He had to send his last surviving sister to live far away from him in order to protect her. His life was full of complications, he wasn’t any happier than he had been since Paige, and now he had agreed to magically transfer his power to a teen through a ritual that would involve intimate contact with said teen’s best friend, who on top of everything was one annoying, fragile and pretty useless human. He turned to see the human sleeping next to him. Up close, asleep, Stiles looked like an angel. What a strange character he was! Always jumping up and down, loud, awkward, unnerving, but reliable, brave in his own way, resourceful, and stupid.


	2. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Task is on the table! Derek and Stiles are slowly easing into it, both actually making an effort not to spoil things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the second chapter! Yes, a bit later than expected, but I've an essay on pharmaceutic companies to finish and I haven't done that yet! Yes, pressure, pressure, pressure. Where was I? Oh yes, :-) Thanks to my lovely betas, @shotahunter and @fuckingdarkstiles for helping me and putting up with me. They did a wonderful job, so all mistakes left in there are... ummm... Word's fault. ^_^ And I was stubborn again. Oh, and I may have invented a new word. Never say I do not give back a little to English Language! Brand new word! Wonder if you can spot it. Anyway, off you go, and I'm back to the stupid essay.

The morning started without his usual alarm clock, though he did hear his phone’s alarm go off. In his dream he would eat lots and lots of clouds and he had just served himself a huge bowl of them when through dreams he heard the alarm.

”Oh, not now! Really!” he complained, pitifully looking at the bowl full of fluffy, floating, delicious clouds.

”Stiles!” a voice like the thunder clashed into his mind.

Dreams and clouds and everything turned off as he jumped up from bed alarmed. He would have fallen to the floor, maybe even landed on his face if a strong arm wouldn’t have caught him. He let himself be pulled up, where Derek already had his frowning face on.

“Get up,” he said getting himself out of bed „you have school.”

“Well, aren’t you a sunshine,” Stiles frowned (despite having been saved from landing on his face) and swung his feet off the bed.

Derek returned the frown.

“Real pleasure waking up with you,” the teen added standing up and feeling stiff all over. That lumpy mattress was murder for his body, and he had slept in much more uncomfortable positions and places.

Right at that moment he caught the wolf looking at him in that way he had where he replaced actual words and actual conversation with murderous glares. It was ‘Derekian’, a primitive language Stiles believed he had become fluent in by now. He decided he would show the sour wolf how well he mastered his glares, how much he didn’t scare him with his attitude (though he did) and faced him. He wasn’t going to be beaten by a wolf first thing in the morning. Derek held his glare and then pointed with his eyes down the teen’s body. Surprised, Stiles followed his eyes to find a boner tenting his pants.

Embarrassed, and feeling exposed, though that was not what Derek was implying, he stormed past him, grabbed his towel and went into the tiny bathroom.

“That’s not because of you!” he said slamming the door.

Derek frowned a little more, but soon his face softened and a little, tiny little smile played on his lips. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being in this situation, and Stiles was funny.

He started his day as he usually did, only working out in this tiny house was a little bit more difficult. He liked open, empty places for a reason, and honestly a lot of this tiny house seemed too weak to stand his routine. He went out to the backyard, which was only marginally larger than the tiny house, where he worked for a while on his body. Twenty minutes after he had started, he heard the voice of the teen calling him from inside.

“Derek! Breakfast’s ready!”

Breakfast? Stiles was making him breakfast? Shouldn’t he be on his way to school? He entered the house more out of curiosity than anything else and found coffee, toasts, jam and scrambled eggs. His eyebrows went up to his hairline.

“You can scramble eggs,” he said crossing his arms over his chest and leaning to the door frame.

The teen smiled, though in all of his movements you could guess a bit of rush.

“I’m not totally useless, please sit,” he said pointing at the chair Derek had taken the previous night, “and I called Scott’s mom to make sure.”

Derek sat down carefully inspecting the scrambled eggs and poking them with the fork.

“You haven’t left any eggshells in it, have you?”

“Why?” Stiles said packing up his mouth with eggs and toast “Eggshells can kill you?”

Derek smirked and then started eating. The scrambled eggs weren’t actually bad, and the toasts were perfect.

“I wanted to thank you for dinner yesterday,” Stiles said between forkfuls of food.

“You did yesterday,” the wolf noted.

Stiles nodded.

“Yes, but I wanted you to know that I really appreciated it and that it was really good,” he said “the pasta was delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” said Derek mostly out of obligation.

The teen then suddenly jumped up picking up his empty plate and drinking the remaining of his coffee.

“So, this counts as a meal together at the house, right?”

The wolf looked at him as if trying to solve a puzzle. Stiles made a circular motion signaling the table and them.

“Breakfast? Most important meal of the day and all? You and I eating it.”

Derek lifted his shoulders carelessly.

“Won’t come home for dinner?” he asked nonchalantly forking up some eggs and biting off a piece of toast.

“No,” Stiles said “I just want to make sure, just in case something happens and one of us can’t make it back for dinner.”

Derek ate quietly.

“I suppose.”

“Good,” Stiles said flying to the kitchen, where he quickly washed his dishes and ran to the room speeding out with his backpack towards the entry door.

“I’m off to school! Have a nice day!”

The door slammed before Derek could answer – assuming he would have bothered answering – and soon he could hear Stiles’ jeep cough up for ignition. Except it didn’t start. Again, and again he tried and the car wouldn’t cooperate. His werewolf senses allowed him to hear the kid plead and beg the car to move, but it wouldn’t do it. So the wolf washed down the rest of the breakfast with the cup of strong coffee – would have to talk to Stiles about that - and went back to the bedroom, where he put on the previous day’s jeans and t-shirt and went out to the jeep.

“Take the parking brake out!” he shouted to the teen, who immediately obeyed.

Then he pushed the car out of the driveway, Stiles maneuvering it to leave it in front of the tiny house.

“Get into my car,” he ordered the teen, once he pulled the parking brake.

“You are lending me yours?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“No,” Derek glared at him “I’ll drive you to school.”

Well, that was also good. Stiles ran to the Camaro and waited until Derek opened it to get in. Derek drove really well, and could drive really fast too, so they made it in time.

“You have practice today?”

“No,” Stiles replied.

Derek stopped right in front of the school and turned to Stiles as he was getting out of the car.

“Don’t get detention.”

Stiles smiled and closed the door carefully. How nice of Derek to wish him well! In his own way, of course. Maybe he had judged him poorly and he was actually making an effort to improve things between them, at least for the sake of the ritual.

“Thank you,” he said smiling “You have a nice day too.”

Derek rolled his eyes and left. This time, Stiles didn’t particularly mind his poor attitude. Derek was trying, and he decided that he would concentrate on that… at least for the sake of the ritual.

Things at school went as usual. He sat with Scott, and they talked about the whole thing going on. He knew his friend well, and so Scott couldn’t hide he was truly worried about the prospect of facing someone like Castor. They barely made it against Deucalion, and that was because Miss Blake faced him during the Eclipse. Then there was the thing with the Nogitsune, and though Scott insisted the situation with Castor was far different, Stiles couldn’t shake off the fear that remembering the dark Japanese demon and what the power it wielded within his body was like. Hell, that thing used HIS body and sent no other but Derek Hale – THE Derek Hale – flying. Castor wasn’t possessing Stiles’ weakling body, but had a huge, strong body for his own. That alone breathe the godly fear down his spine. They would have to outsmart the king of hell all on their own. Good thing Deaton had been talking strategy with Scott, and it seemed that had also been talking with Derek about it.

“He hasn’t told you anything?” Scott frowned looking puzzled at Stiles.

“He barely talks,” Stiles noticed stuffing his face. It did irritate him to know that Derek had some information on the case and hadn’t shared it with him. But then he remembered how the wolf had been actually nicer to him than ever so far, and well, Derek had never been one to confide in him. “But he’s actually being nice.”  
Scott’s eyes widened.

“Drove me to school, and wished me a good day,” Stiles muttered, “in his awkward way.”

“Awww!” Scott teased him “Could it be luuuuuuuuv?”

Stiles laughed. God, he loved Scott!

“Let’s hope it lasts until the full moon!”

This wilted the smile on the teen wolf.

“It hurts me that you’ll lose your virginity to a ritual to make me stronger,” he admitted.

Stiles looked at him with a warm, loving smile. No person could ever wish a better friend than Scott.

“Hey, it’s not like I’ve been attached to it,” he tried to ease his mind “besides, I’d rather lose it in a magical ritual than have it stuck with me for years… or never lose it at all.”

“Yes,” Scott said “but you’ll lose it to Derek.”

Their eyes met and held a silent conversation for a moment full of unmistakable, brotherly love.

“Derek isn’t so bad,” Stiles assured him.

“But I would have taken care of you,” Scott said.

Stiles had to smile. He reached out and touched his best friend’s forearm.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Stilinski! For the love of God, just shut up already!” coach Finstock shouted at him.

“But…”

“That’s it! You’ve just earned yourself detention! And you too, Greenberg! And don’t look at me like that! You know what you did!”

So, after school he went to detention. So much for Derek’s good wishes. Greenberg was already there, sweating and fidgeting. He slumped on a chair, popped his chin on the table, and let his mind be flooded with thoughts of what has been going on.

Though he had thought of the remote possibility of what could sex be like with Scott, he had never really considered it as a possibility. Okay, he did consider once to actually make out with him to satisfy his own curiosity, and because, really, Scott knew him better than anyone and wouldn’t take it the wrong way. After what Scott said, he realized that maybe Scott had wondered about the same thing, but even if he didn’t, he actually knew him so well and cared for him so much, that he would have tried, really tried, to push his lingering feelings for Allison and his budding feelings for Kira back in his heart for a moment, to make their time together as good as he could. 

In his mind he could already see him, lying next to him as so many other times when they had fallen asleep, or when they fell in bed and kept talking and laughing until sleep defeated them. He could see his warm smile and bright eyes making sure he was alright. What would be like with Derek? Do his part and then get up and leave? Hurry to establish the old order and be back to frown at him and take as much distance as he could? Happy he could read in bed in peace without having to share it with a teen that twists and turns constantly? Being able to get home without being greeted with an exploding kitchen?

He wouldn’t tell Scott, but yes, he did resent a little that the first time he would get laid would be with someone who had no interest in him, who would bed him because of duty. Well, hopefully the second time he’d have sex it would be better. If only things with Malia would have worked! But that time at Eichen House, as they kissed and made out, and she wanted more and took her shirt off, things looked up for Stiles, really did, until she changed her mind. One moment she was moaning underneath him, pushing her nose to his neck and then… then her arms pushed at him, eyes widened, and she scurried back. He tried to calm her down, but she nearly clawed his face off. Something had scared her. He took his distance, fixed his clothes and willed his sadly disappointed boner down. He talked to her until she calmed. She was still cold, and slowly let him help her back into her shirt, then allowed him to hold her, cuddle her.

“I’m sorry,” she had said then.

“No problem,” he said, and he really meant it despite his forming blue balls.

“It’s just that you smell like you belong to someone else, someone powerful, and I don’t really want any sort of trouble,” she turned to look at him “You do understand, don’t you?”

He smiled and nodded, though inwards he screamed and hated Scott for ruining his sex life. He definitively needed a non-supernatural girlfriend that wouldn’t smell his friends on him, or one that knew him and knew that him smelling like Scott didn’t mean they were having sex.

Needless to say, he never told that to Scott. Allison had died, his dad was back, he didn’t need much more crap in his life. That’s what friends are for. That’s what friends do.

When detention was finally over – at least Finstock did limit his detentions to thirty minutes – and he walked out of the building, it did surprise him to see more people than what he would normally expect at this time. Curiously the crowd was composed mostly by girls. Could it be that Jackson was back from London and was parading his latest sport car? Curiosity got the best of him, so he pushed through the crowd of aweing and giggling girls. They were staring alright, only Stiles didn’t actually expect them to be staring… at Derek Hale.  
There was the wolf, leaning against his black Camaro, with his black skintight jeans, his black, snug t-shirt, his black leather jacket and pilot sunglasses. When their eyes locked the wolf straightened and Stiles walked to him fast, hunching a little, as if hoping nobody would notice him.

“What are you doing here?”

With a head movement, Derek told him to get in the car.

“I told you not to get detention.”

“You came to pick me up?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

Derek didn’t even bother answering, as he slid back in and waited for Stiles to be inside before starting the car and driving them home.

“I talked to Scott,” Stiles said on the way back to the small house.

Derek didn’t even move a muscle to let him know he was listening to him. Stiles gave him a moment before continuing.

“So, he said Deaton has been talking to him and you about the strategy to defeat Castor.”

“Some general ideas, mostly,” Derek said without taking his eyes off the road.

“You didn’t tell me,” Stiles said doing his damnest to sound casual and not at all like a hurt girlfriend.

“It’s nothing you particularly need to know,” Derek said with that awfully casual tone of voice.

Normally Stiles would snap at being kept out of the loop and would remind the wolf how he was being part of the solution, so he deserved to know, but this time he reigned his instinct and tried to keep calm. Derek was clearly making an effort trying to be nice to him, so he would try and do the same.

“I would still like to know,” the teen said quietly.

This did get a reaction from the wolf, who tightened his jaw. Well, it seemed that Derek’s capacity to put up with him and be nice had a limit, and Stiles had reached. He breathed in and remembered that they had a week to make this work. How, that was a mystery, but they had to. Stiles looked out of the window and wondered if Derek had taken a position of “fake it until you make it” with him.

“It’s just…” he tried to save the situation “you know I’m curious, that’s all. No pressure.”

He didn’t look at the wolf, who had turned for an instant to look at him, having smelled his tension and the slightly bitter scent of something quite close to sadness or defeat. They went on in silence for a while, a silence that felt unnatural for Derek, because, well, any type of silence around Stiles was unnatural. The former alpha frowned and reminded himself that he should be working on improving his connection with mole-peppered, annoying human, so that the power he would transfer to him during the ritual, could be properly harnessed and passed on to Scott.

“It was just something quick,” he said “a phone call.”

Stiles turned to him, marveled that the wolf would talk to him.

“Any ideas in how to defeat Castor? Has he found his week point? Is there any wolf-technique Scott could learn to face him? Has he drafted a plan of attack for the pack?”

Well, that was more like it. Derek suppressed a smile, because normally this annoyed him - and still did! –but perky-Stiles was better than down-Stiles, so instead of smiling he frowned, which Stiles took the wrong way, which was the way Derek wanted him to take it.

“Sorry, I…” he looked out of the window “sorry.”

He didn’t need to say anything else, and yet he could smell on Stiles that he was feeling better. He could fight him and ignore him all he wanted after the ritual was completed and Castor defeated, but in the meantime, he would have to work on getting a smooth relationship in order to make the best of the ritual ahead. Naturally, Derek completely denied the fact that in an odd way making Stiles smile or happy gave him a sense of satisfaction.

Back at the small house Derek parked his car under the rickety roof, and then eyed Stiles’ car.

“Gonna get that towed?”

“No,” the teen declared, “gonna try and fix it with hopes and prayer.”

Derek thought it was a joke, but Stiles actually got into the jeep and tried to ignite it over and over while pleading to the engine. He was on the couch reading his book, and listening from time to time to the engine and Stiles’ near sobs while he begged the jeep not to let him down and come back to life. His backpack lied in the corner of the room, under the chair he had been taking at the table, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the strange kid that seemed to believe so much in the power of determination, even against rational thinking. When the engine then finally roared up, loud and ugly as only crappy old cars could, he heard also his shout of happiness, his praises to the piece of crap car he drove as if the machine would have actually done something. The engine ran for a while, as if by doing so Stiles could make sure it would respond the next day and the problem would be miraculously fixed. When he returned, he sported a radiant expression. Derek thought the kid should still take his car to the shop for fixing, but said nothing, instead watched him discreetly over the book as he went to the bathroom to wash his hands, and then pour himself a glass of water, sitting down with his laptop to do research or homework, or something.

“The jeep works again!” he said with his eyes glued to the screen of his computer.

Derek rolled his eyes. It seemed that Stiles’ evident resolve not to bother him with unnecessarily chat couldn’t last longer than a couple of minutes.

“Good.”

“So, I can take myself to school tomorrow,” he smiled.

“I’m reading…”

“Right. Sorry.”

He still hummed a little for a while until what probably was a very interesting research or a boring homework demanded all of his attention. Derek decided that homework or research, or both were something good. It was keeping Stiles silent without the effect of sadness what bothered him. He went back to his book, and though the story could quickly catch his attention, he couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering around a little, rolling slowing around the teen in the other end of the space, hunching over the only table of the house, focused on his things. There was a strange sense of peace coming from the whole situation that bothered Derek in a way.

Though Stiles had been planning to try his luck at the kitchen again, when he realized, Derek was in there already making something. He quickly shut down his laptop and went to the kitchen.

“Can I help with something?”

“Finished homework?”

Stiles looked at the table where his books still piled up, his notes messy on top.

“Yeah…”

Derek looked up at him sensing the lie in his voice. Stiles shook his head.

“I can finish that up later,” he explained “and I would feel bad if you were to continue making dinner for me.”  
Derek looked at him cocking up one eyebrow, clearly displeased.

“Us!”Stiles was quick to correct his mistake “For us, making dinner for us…” he laughed in his discomfort “because why would you make dinner for me, right?”

Derek still looked at him with his patented murderer stare until Stiles was forced to look away, rubbing his palms down the side of his pants.

“So, what can I do to help?”

Derek measured him up before handing him a large bowl with boiled and peeled potato chunks, some butter and what seemed like milk.

“Mash these.”

Stiles smiled, taking the bowl and mashing the potatoes, happy to be able to help. In the meanwhile, the wolf seasoned a couple of pork chops and fried them in a pan. The whole house, tiny as it was, smelled delicious, warm scent of the dinner rolling in every corner and making everything homely and wonderful. Strange as it was, it felt nice sharing these simple tasks with Derek. As he finished the mashed potatoes, he went to the table picking up his books and notes, stuffing them in his backpack and throwing it behind his chair. He then set the table, and Derek brought the pork chops and the drinks. They ate silently for a while, enjoying the food.

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly, stuffing his face with meat and potatoes.

“You’re welcome,” Derek replied automatically.

“I mean,” Stiles played with his food for a moment “for everything you are doing to make this work.”  
Derek looked up from his food, staring at him not sure he followed.

“You are being really nice to me,” Stiles explained making circles with his fork “and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

Derek simply looked at him, his stare slightly morphing at something that seemed to say ‘fuck, you are stupid’, and then turned back to his food. Stiles looked at his food and for a moment thought that he may have talked too early, but said nothing. All in all, Derek had been nice and in his own way, continued being nice.

His phone then beeped letting him know he had received an e-mail. He quickly checked it. It was from Deaton.

“We have homework,” he said passing the phone to Derek.

The wolf picked it up and read it cocking up an eyebrow.

“Play games?”

“So it seems,” said Stiles pocketing his phone “so what shall we play?”

The instructions sent from Deaton said ‘Tonight you two must play a game’. It seemed easy at first except that they didn’t seem to be able to find something both of them would be willing to play. There weren’t many board games at the house either, nor a video game console of any sort, and Derek wasn’t willing to enter into the online game Stiles had been playing at for years now. There was a deck of cards and a chess set. Though chess seemed like a good idea – and would probably keep Stiles silent for a long time and Derek in one place for an equally long time – they decided not to go with it, because that long time could, perhaps, become too long.

“Poker?” suggested Derek.

“And what would we play for?”

Well, the brat had a point there.

“Black Jack?”

They played a couple of rounds of Black Jack, then a couple of rounds of Gin but soon got bored.

“Shall we call it a night?” Stiles suggested as he watched the wolf slowly turn each card in his hand and dropping it on the couch before him.

This time, as Derek looked up at him, his face seemed soft and approachable.

“Maybe we should try again,” he said putting down the deck “I don’t think this should be the point of the exercise.”

Stiles rubbed his face.

“It should bring us closer together,” the conceded.

“And we have less than a week to make it happen,” Derek reminded him.

Stiles stared at his hands twisting his mouth as he thought.

“Would you be willing to push the envelope on this?”

Derek looked at him waiting for the teen to elaborate.

“Drinking games.”

His eyebrows went up surprised, but then his eye looked up as if considering the possibility.

“Werewolves don’t get drunk,” Derek told the teen.

“Come on Derek!” the teen pleaded “Work with me. I’m out of ideas.”

They ended up fetching a bottle of rum, and started playing games. First they went with a letter game, where one of them picked a category and they had to name something in that category following the letters of the alphabet. Countries, cities. States, cars, models and actresses, movies…

“Porn actresses!” Stiles said merrily tipsy.

Derek lost that one in order to stop the game. They continued with other games, Derek making sure Stiles wouldn’t drink too much, until he decided to end it before the strong tipsy state would develop into “drunk”.

“One last game?” Stiles asked, his head already resting on the back of the couch.

“Didn’t you have enough drinking already?” Derek said putting away what was left of the bottle.

“With no alcohol, then.”

Derek sighed and went back to the couch.

“What you have in mind?”

“Truth or dare,” the teen smiled.

“You are in no shape for any type of dare,” the wolf stated.

“Truth or truth then,” Stiles offered.

“That’s not even a game.”

“Please Derek,” Stiles closed his eyes just a little, to rest them, really “work with me.”

Derek looked at him, trying to decide whether if Stiles would fall asleep or not. Those pretty brown eyes  
opened looking at him with a smile and a warmth that suddenly hit him in the chest.

“So?” he asked with a smile “Truth or dare?”

Derek sighed.

“Truth.”

Stiles smiled a bit wider, slowly straightening himself up.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Derek’s eyes widened. Would the game go about stupid questions like that?

“I don’t have favorite colors.”

“Everybody has a favorite color,” Stiles insisted with a smile on.

“Wolves don’t see colors.”

“But you aren’t a wolf all the time.”

The wolf measured him for a moment, then gave in.

“Fine… red.”

The game went for a couple of rounds about lame questions, then some a little bit interesting. Derek always picked “truth” because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and Stiles picked “truth” because the one time he tried to pick “dare” Derek would stare at him until he said “truth”, so by the end they simply issued questions at each other.

“Have you slept with men before?”

Derek looked at the teen as if he would have asked him to chop off his head. However, the look on Stilinski’s eyes was honest and concerned.

“No.”

Before he could issue his next question, Stiles asked again.

“Would you know what to do?”

His heart rate had jumped up a bit. The kid was concerned.

“It’s gonna be fine, Stiles.”

His head fell back on the back of the couch and started picking at the slightly fraying hem of his pants.

“I’m not sure I would know what to do,” he admitted.

Seeing Stiles like that brought in Derek an inner need to make sure he was okay, something he had mostly cataloged for himself as a residual alpha impulse that made him need to take care of his pack, even if Stiles had never really been part of it.

“Stiles,” he said lowering his face to look him in the eye and make him look him in the eye. “It’s going to be okay. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“First times are always bad.”

Derek frowned.

“It’s not a real first time,” he argued “just a first time with a guy.”

Those beautiful brown eyes looked at him, a hint of need coloring them.

“It is a first-first time for me.”

Derek straightened up. Stiles looked away ashamed, picking at the hem of his pants again. The wolf realized then that the virginity Scott and Stiles had been talking about was and actual, real virginity, and not just a matter of having sex with a guy for the first time. He pulled closer and took the teen’s face in his hands.

“Stiles,” he said firmly “it is going to be ok.”

Brown eyes searched his, scouting for the truth in there. Derek wished he could transmit him trust the way Scott did it. It surprised him when the teen smiled weakly and nodded at him.

Did Stiles trust him?


	3. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another task, and this time a little friction comes between our beloved heroes. This time they will face their opinion about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, another chapter for all of you. Are you liking it? Hope you do :-D. As usual, mistakes are... due to... Mercury Retrograde :-D

The next day Stiles woke up to the strident chirping of his phone, a headache and an empty bed.

“Oh God,” he moaned pitifully as he tried to peel himself from the sheets and will his body to the bathroom. What had he been thinking when he suggested drinking games? Oh yes, because it sounded funny at the time, and definitively better than card games. For what it was worth, at least during those games Derek seemed to have lost a little that “wolf-on-a-mission” kind of seriousness that he had been sporting since starting this whole thing.

He took a quick shower and dressed up for school while realizing that his headache was only one of the “pleasant” effects of being hung-over, as his stomach started acting up, feeling as if it was rotten inside. Well, seeing Derek a bit laid back wasn’t worth this much suffering. Besides, with an upset stomach how could he stand breakfast? Or even make it? To make things worse, through the window of the bedroom he saw the wolf doing his routine out in the backyard, all muscle, sweat and power, nothing like his weak, sick, fragile being nursing the effects of the night. For a second he considered walking up to him and ask him to please give him the bite, until he reminded himself that it was much better to suffer from the occasional hangover than to be afflicted with a monthly curse.

He went to the kitchen and put on the coffee – nice and strong as he needed it –and started making toasts. Hopefully Derek wouldn’t mind a simple breakfast for he really wasn’t up to making eggs and bacon.

“Derek! Breakfast is ready!” he shouted as soon as enough toasts were ready.

He put butter on some for Derek, and placed them on his plate, while he served himself only a cup of coffee, as it was the only thing he was sure to be able to stomach. The wolf entered the main area of the tiny house with a sort of curious expression plastered on his face, eyes slightly widened, as if something out of the ordinary had happened. He looked at the table and then at Stiles as if wondering how come breakfast had appeared on it again.

“That’s all you’re having?” he nodded at the mug cradled in Stiles’ hands.

“It will do until I recover from last night,” the teen replied with a somewhat subdued tone of voice.

Derek eyed him lifting one eyebrow letting him know clearly how brilliant he thought that idea of drinking games was and how he had advised him against it. Words or no words, Stiles wasn’t really in the mood of having any of it, especially since he had been lecturing himself about his wise game choices since he woke up. The wolf walked to the kitchen, where he quickly washed his hands before walking to the table. However, before he took his seat, he reached for the teen and put his chilled hand on the nape of his neck. Immediately it felt as if a weight were being lifted from him. A sparkly sensation of well being spread inside him, from the nape of his neck up to his forehead and down his belly, erasing the pain and he discomfort. His spine straightened and his neck pushed softly against the hand on it, taking away the pain. Strangely, there was something about that movement, that reaction that startled Derek, a sort of reaction of acceptance and leaning into he had not expected.

He removed his hand silently and sat on his chair, minding his breakfast.

“Thank you,” Stiles said reaching for the place where his hand had been.

Derek only looked at him for a moment before going back to eating. He washed down a piece of toast with some coffee and frowned.

“Your coffee is too strong.”

“I’ll make it better tomorrow,” the teen smiled, not minding it as the wolf didn’t reply to his promise.

It was Derek after all, and he knew he was this way. Now that he was well – thanks Lord for werewolves and their healing powers – Stiles threw a couple of bread slices in the incredibly chunky, old toaster and waited next to it while nursing his coffee. The brew was strong and he knew it, but after many years of making the same bring-back-from-death strong coffee for himself and his dad – who was actually who got him used to it – he didn’t really notice.

“Want some milk or something for the coffee?” he asked the wolf just as the toasts jumped up.

The wolf shook his head. Stiles grabbed the toasts and went back to the table. He was about to spread butter on them when Derek pushed his own toasts on his plate.

“Don’t waste time with that,” he said “eat these.”

“Thank you,” smiled the teen taking the offer.

Derek frowned at him, but said nothing. The scent of the teen was changing, becoming perhaps more mellow, and his constant gratitude and that compulsive need to make breakfast for him was definitively odd. Yes, they had a mission, and he was focused on making the mission succeed, but the kid’s actions seemed to go past the functionality of what they had to do, and wandering into something different. He watched Stiles quietly, almost as if he were measuring a prey, reading all of his movements, the tones in his scent, the sounds he made, the rhythm of his heartbeats and breathing. The rest of the breakfast went down in silence of words, but not of information, where the turmoil inside the teen, waves of warmth and poorly dissimulated smiles were loud on his senses.

“I’m leaving then,” he said at one point picking up his dishes and rushing to the kitchen to wash them.

Derek wouldn’t break the moment with unnecessary words, but kept his eyes and senses keenly tuned on the teen, whose scent changed to one more usual of him, the sharp scent of school related rushing. 

More words, half eaten toast between his teeth, backpack precariously dangling from one shoulder, sneakers screeching against the floor of the tiny house, door opening and closing, and then the sound of the jeep fixed with hopes and prayer as the engine started, the stiff stick thrown into gear. Soon the loud engine merged into the road and the teenager was gone. Derek took another sip of the terrible coffee, and contemplated the toasts. He wasn’t happy with the plan, not by the way things were going.

Deaton had known Derek pretty much his whole life. He had been a lively boy though had always carried a certain tendency towards silence, leaning much heavier on the instinctive communication than the verbal one. Back then he had navigated through the world and made friends making his instinctive nature less notorious and rather more like a fun quirk of his personality. However, as he grew, his eyes turned blue and one bad decision after another piled the tragedy on his shoulders, his instinctive side grew overpowering, and as his body got larger and stronger, his face grew dark in expression and he himself pulled far from the man he had been destined to be, and instead held tight into the wolf he became. Much was often blamed on Peter, and Deaton knew that the old wolf didn’t have a single strand of innocence in his body, but with Derek, the cunning older wolf acted more as a revealing agent rather than one set on destroying him. Like a trickster, Peter knew the ways into the mind and soul of Derek nobody else knew, and had set him years ago into path of darkness that now marked his days.

“What can I do for you, Derek?” the veterinarian said standing on the other side of the counter, sporting a mask of severe seriousness that did nothing for the former emissary.

“We must talk.”

Deaton let him in and walked him to his office.

“Something the matter?” he asked the wolf again.

Derek crossed his arms before his chest unaware in this case how bulky and strong that movement made him look, and yet at the same time how scared it made him look in the eyes of the veterinarian.

“This plan can’t go on.”

The features of the veterinarian set on a look of seriousness so deep, it suddenly set back the wolf, who was mostly used to his open, smiling expression.

“Are things so bad between you and Stiles?”

Derek looked at him trying to read him and also thinking on how to say what he had to say.

“I don’t think Stiles should be doing this ritual.”

Deaton’s eyebrows went up. His dark eyes measured him up and the deadly seriousness from before chipped off.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Stiles is a virgin,” the wolf said coming closer.

Deaton only lifted his eyebrows again, not seeing the problem of it. Derek licked his lips and tried again.

“This is not how he should be-” he stopped himself, huffed upset at not being able to say what he meant, and tried again “This is a thing that has to be done in order to defeat Castor, not-” he frowned again upset at finding it so difficult to explain the problem he saw in this whole plan.

“What are you afraid of, Derek?”

The wolf looked at him with those feral eyes of his. Deaton watched him calmly, knowing fully well that he was upset with himself and the whole situation, but it was something Derek had to solve.

“He might take this for what it’s not.”

“Stiles developing a crush on you upsets you so much?”

Derek looked at him tensing his jaw. No, that was not what he was trying to say. What he was trying to say was that he found it wrong for Stiles to lose his virginity to a ritual, to have sex for the first time with someone whom he didn’t love nor who loved him in return, and add to it, from his behavior, he believed the teen might have been starting to develop feelings that would only end in heartbreak once they were back to their regular lives. Of course, wording all that actually sounded stupid.

“It’s wrong,” he said shortly “Stiles shouldn’t be doing this.”

Deaton took a pause with a long, deep sigh allowing the wolf some space to gather his own thoughts. He could see that the wolf clearly cared for the teen, but was just as determined to ignore those feelings. The bond was there, between the wolf and the teen, and from what he could see, two nights together had made it stronger. He wondered if Stiles also ignored that fact, or if he was actually more accepting of it and that was what set the alerts in the head of the oblivious wolf.

“This is something neither you nor I can decide about,” the veterinarian said calmly. “Truth is that the power you and Stiles can raise is great, and with it we might get a chance to defeat Castor. Without it we won’t. However, if you feel that Stiles’ lack of experience or the way you two are bonding could be counterproductive to the ritual or the power you two could transfer to Scott, you should definitively talk it over with him.”

***

Stiles didn’t expect to see Derek in the tiny house when he came back from school. It was nice to see him there, sunken in the couch reading his book.

“Hi,” he greeted, to what the wolf looked up from the book.

“Hello,” he said shortly.

A simple word and the teen was smiling wide. ‘See?’, Derek thought ‘this is exactly what I meant’. Stiles walked to the table and dumped his backpack next to what was now pretty much ‘his chair’.

“So, what’s the book about?” he asked while taking out what Derek presumed would be his homework and the books and notes he needed for it.

“It’s about a sort of hacker who crossed by the wrong people, was punished by being made unable to connect to this sort of internet thing, and then he gets a deal with someone who promises to fix him in exchange for some job,” the wolf explained.

“Sci-fi, right?”

“Yes.”

Stiles smiled.

“I would have never taken you for someone who likes sci-fi.”

Derek stared at him, ready to issue him another “I’m reading” remark, but instead noticed how the teen had left him in peace, minding his own business, already concentrated on homework. His head didn’t pop up, he didn’t look at the wolf, there was not a single sign that betrayed his intention of keeping up a conversation: he was actually minding his own business and letting him be. Derek closed the book and went to the teen.

“Stiles,”

He looked up at him from his books, his mind still partly on the homework. Derek took seat before him on the table, but kept his eyes firmly trained on Stiles.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

The acrid stench of fear poured in buckets from the hunched shoulders.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said looking at the books laid before him, eyes wide and pushing his body away “I’ll work harder. I know I haven’t been easy, but-”

“Stiles!” Derek rolled his eyes getting annoyed by him “That’s not what I mean.”

His mouth clamped shut and he stared at him for a moment, pushing his head forward from the neck.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You shouldn’t be losing your virginity to a ritual.”

Confusion was clearly plastered on those brown eyes.

“Is it because I have no experience? Because I learn quickly, so it couldn’t possibly be that bad.”

“It’s a ritual,” Derek tried his damnest to drive the message home, and hoping this wouldn’t end up being a sterile conversation, like the one he had with Deaton “there was nothing before and there will be nothing after.”

Stiles blinked, taking an expression of strong concentration.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

They looked at each other for a moment, both of them equally measuring up the other.

“I had this conversation with Scott already,” Stiles admitted “he also thought that I shouldn’t be doing it for a ritual, and especially not with you.”

Derek couldn’t avoid the frown, though he actually agreed with the new alpha. He wanted to ask why he hadn’t called it off, but he waited, knowing that the young Stilinski would get there. Stiles looked at his books and toyed with the corners of the pages for a moment before continuing.

“I don’t mind,” he said shortly. “There are worse ways and worse reasons to have sex or lose one’s virginity, and it’s not like I have it in a high esteem. I know we don’t have any feeling for each other, but I know you. I know you are actually someone I can trust, you are dependable and deep down a nice person. You won’t do anything to hurt me or humiliate me and this isn’t about either of us using the other. This is for a good reason. How many people can say that they’ve lost their virginity for the greater good? Because in my case I will be, unless you want to back off from this.”

Derek searched his eyes.

“Okay,” Stiles rolled his eyes “you have actually smacked my head into the dashboard and smashed me repeatedly against walls, doors, my jeep… but that’s not the kind of hurt I was thinking about.”

Derek rolled his eyes, because really, Stiles wasn’t taking this seriously.

“Are you sure?”

Stiles smiled one of those smiles he had seen before, a bit cocky, a bit confident and a lot joking.

“Honestly, you are the best chance at having sex I’ve had since… ever.”

Derek still waited staring at him.

“I won’t pester you, I promise” Stiles pushed forwards widening his eyes to make a point “you can rest assured, I know this is all for a ritual.”

Well, that sounded okay.

“Go back to your homework,” Derek stood up and went for his book.

“I hope you know it’s all for a ritual,” Stiles called after him “because my dad really won’t like a wolf he had arrested twice howling under my window.”

Yes, that sounded okay. Derek made a sound of “you’d be so lucky”. He could hear the brat smile behind him, again one of his typical smiles, and all was right with the world.

They went back each to their own for a while, until Derek deemed it was time to start making something that would look like dinner. As he closed the book and went for the kitchen, the teen sprinted up from his place, abandoning his books and notes.

“I have this! I’ll make dinner!”

Derek measured him for a moment, but then resumed making his way towards the tiny kitchen.

“Go finish homework,” he walked past him pushing him out of the kitchen, not in an aggressive manner, but neither in a gentle way.

“But I checked,” Stiles protested “and I asked! I can do it!”

Derek eyed him for a moment and then ignored him going for the fridge and looking inside.

“Come on, have a little faith in me,” Stiles insisted “I did manage with the scrambled eggs.”  
Derek straightened closing the fridge door and looking far ahead of him, as if asking the universe why did he had to endure this punishment.

“And what do you plan on making?”

“It’s a surprise,” the teen smiled.

Not good enough for Derek, who opened the door of the fridge and pulled out some carrots and onions, and then went for the cabins, pulling a couple of cans.

“I don’t like surprises,” he stated, “go back to your books.”

“Burgers,” the teen blurted, “I researched for burgers.”

Derek had to laugh.

“Where? Some quick and easy dinners’ site?”

Stiles said nothing. That had actually been his search. Derek kept preparing things, pouring oil into a skillet and chopping the carrots and the onion.

“I’ll take care of this, you go finish your homework.”

“But-”

“GO!”

Stiles frowned and left the kitchen, going back to his books, but unable to concentrate. He couldn’t believe the wolf. Well, no scratch that, he could. It would take someone like Derek to be nice at one moment and a complete asshole the next. He tried to chase those thoughts from his head, and instead concentrated on his homework, completing it until he could no longer concentrate.

The scent of food cooking was delicious, but it somehow made him aware of how useless he was in that area, and how Derek wasn’t even giving him a chance to redeem himself in that area. He put his stuff back in the backpack and then went to the kitchen getting the dishes to set the table for two and taking care of smaller tasks such as washing whatever Derek didn’t seem to be using. The wolf didn’t chase him out of the kitchen, but instead little by little asked him to pass him this or that, or keep an eye on the skillet while he chopped something else.

They sat down to eat in silence, which didn’t seem to bother the wolf at all, but unsettled the teen, in whose head ten thousand conversation went on which could be taking place between them and none of them ended up well.

“I know I don’t cook well,” he said breaking the silence “but I would like to try it. I know I can make dinner.”

“Why is this an issue?”

Stiles tried to reply, but as he opened his mouth he couldn’t speak a word, so he closed it again and looked down at the plate before him. It was hard to explain that he didn’t want to feel he was taking advantage of the wolf, that he wanted to show he could also do things, that he wasn’t as useless as he felt, particularly when compared with Derek, who was strong, handsome, smart, skilled and everything in between.

“I don’t want to feel useless,” Stiles replied pushing the food around in his plate “besides, this is the best chance I have to practice cooking. At home I could kill my dad, in here whatever I mess up you can always recover from it, right?” he tried to put some humor into it.

As reply Derek gave him that smile that said ‘very funny’ in the worse way possible. Well, that was Derek for you, here he had opened himself, exposed his feelings and all he got from the wolf was a grimace. It was sheer luck he only had to suffer this through a week, and then he would be free from his- Right at that moment is phone chirped up signaling the arrival of a message. Since they weren’t having any sort of civil conversation, Stiles picked it up and checked the message.

“Great,” he let his sarcasm flow freely “homework is here,” he said passing the phone to Derek.

The wolf took the phone ignoring the teen’s latest mood swing and read the message. He frowned and had to read the message again.

“Write on each others SKIN words that describe what you think about each other. Only who have written the words can erase them,” he read aloud and then stared at the screen some more before giving it back to Stiles. How was that going to work to get them closer together was beyond him.

They finished dinner, washed the dishes and then moved to the couch with a couple of whiteboard markers for the task. Derek didn’t waste much time taking off his shirt. The sight that normally stirred a tad of jealousy and much admiration on the teen, lacked in effect.

“You think I’ll need that much space?” he remarked not without a healthy dose of sarcasm in his voice.

Derek, who had lowered his head as he put his discarded Henley beside himself, looked up without moving his head, giving his gaze a particularly feral tone. He imagined he could simply write STUPID on Stiles’ forehead, but refrained from saying so. He however lifted his head a little looking pointedly at the teen and at his shirt, clearly indicating he should take it off. Stiles crossed his arms before his chest not yielding, not a word spilling from his tight lips, but Derek happened to be better at the language of silence and kept his eyes firm until Stiles took off his shirt.

He had never seen the kid shirtless, and in a way now he understood why. Though he didn’t have a bad figure, he was certainly thinner in frame than werewolves. His shoulders and arms were, however, easy on the eyes, even though nowhere near to the upper body he had carved to himself through years of training. On top of everything his flesh was pale to the point of transparency. Discomfort was evident in his scent, his heartbeat and the way he crossed his arms tightly before himself. His eyes roamed over his chest and face measuring him up as he uncapped one of the markers and looked at the teen waiting for him. 

Stiles looked at him, sitting before him, bare chested and didn’t feel like going through with the task. He had seen the wolf in this state before, he had have him closer to himself, had touched him, held him to his chest for hours in a pool, but this was yet different. And he himself was shirtless too. It was like all that could be wrong was getting even worse.

Derek was his usual asshole self waiting for him to start. Well, he uncapped a marker, he could do this. It might not be helpful, but he could do it. He slid closer to the wolf and put the marker to his chest writing the first word.

“Silent,” he read up the word, looking into the wolf’s eyes, clearly showing he didn’t mean it in any good way. 

Derek frowned and pressed his marker to Stiles’ chest.

“Loud.”

“Cocky,” Stiles replied maybe pressing a bit harder than needed when writing.

“Annoying,” hissed Derek.

“Bitter.”

“Troublesome.”

“Sourwolf.”

“Talks too much.”

“Doesn’t listen.”

“Doesn’t think ahead.”

“Narrow minded.”

“Jumps into conclusions.”

“Suspicious.”

“Whines,” Derek read as he wrote the word in large letters across Stiles’ chest.

“So glad you have such a nice opinion about me,” Stiles replied, hand tightening around the marker.

“Same here,” Derek replied with his own brand of sarcasm.

They looked at each other like they were about to tear each other’s heads until Stiles sighed and looked away capping his marker.

“This isn’t working.”

Derek looked away capping his marker as well and pondered the situation. He then went to the kitchen from where he came back with a wet towel. He sat down and rubbed it down Stiles’ chest erasing the words he had written.

“Lets try this again,” he said giving the towel to the teen.

Stiles twisted his lips and took the towel erasing the hurtful words from the chest of the wolf. Then, without waiting, he uncapped his marker and wrote on the top of one perfect pectoral, right under the clavicle.

“Strong.”

Derek relaxed his face and concentrated on the task.

“Brave.”

Stiles smiled.

“Really?”

“Normally I would say ‘stupid’,” Derek said in a way that made Stiles smile because there was no mean intention behind the words.

The teen carefully applied the marker again.

“Driven.”

The wolf looked at the word and then at the teen. His mole peppered face was honest and that kind of made him marvel and nearly feel good about it.

“Smart.”

Stiles smiled.

“Sees potential in others.”

“Dependable.”

Stiles smiled again.

“That’s quite close to trust, you know.”

“Just write your word,” the wolf looked at him in that annoyed way that Stiles didn’t really mind that much.

“Caring.”

An eyebrow went up.

“Caring? Really?”

“What?” Stiles asked capping his pen “You go out of your way for your pack and your family. Anyone can tell.”

Derek just looked at him suspiciously. He uncapped his marker and pressed the side of his hand to the teen’s chest to write his next word.

“Helps, no matter what.”

Stiles couldn’t help smiling at that. It was quite flattering to know that Derek thought those things about him. Of course, the wolf had to make a remark to try and take the shine off it.

“It’s not necessarily a good thing,” he warned, but Stiles was happy no matter what.

“Good person,” he wrote, but before he would pull back, he added “even if he does his best to deny it.”

The wolf rolled his eyes. He wondered if Stiles was lying to kiss up to him, which wasn’t really working, or if he was trying so hard he was actually writing on him what he thought of Scott.

“You are going with the ‘fake it until you make it’ policy?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles frowned.

“’Good person’? Really?”

The teen capped his marker.

“It wouldn’t work if I were lying, I think,” he reasoned “Are you lying?” he gestured to his chest, where the wolf handwriting decorated his skin.

Derek stared at him, but his gaze was unreadable for the teen. Stiles hung his head in defeat.

“Want to erase it and start over?”

“I’m not lying,” Derek stated “Are you?”

Stiles looked around the room as if he were in front of an audience and needed their validation.

“I’m not lying! Can’t you take it that someone would think that you are a good person?”

“Hardly from you,” the wolf countered “we argue all the time.”

“For the record,” Stiles pointed up one index finger “being a good person doesn’t mean that you are a social butterfly or even someone socially functional. And yes, we argue, but not all the time, and that doesn’t make you a bad person. You are, just,” he held his hand towards the wolf “you.”

Derek looked at him, his pulse was fast, but he gave no signs that would tell him he was lying. Well, maybe Stiles did think he was a good person, though who knows what did the teen understood by “good person”.

“Good friend,” he scribbled on the teen’s ribs, as he was slowly getting out of space.

“Works hard.”

Suddenly words and phrases started pouring out of them, some silly, some funny, and some that surprised each other as they would have never believed the other saw those things in them, or that they would even be in them.

“Doesn’t give up,” Derek capped his pen and waited for Stiles to turn around, as he was already filling his back with words. The back of the teen was hypnotic to him for some reason. He also liked the little liberty that having him turn his back gave him at looking at it. It was a nice, lean yet strong back.

Stiles turned back with a smile, but as Derek was turning for the teen to scribble on his back, he stopped him reaching for his bicep, where he wrote his word.

“Trustworthy.”

The wolf looked at him trying – not for the first time – to figure out from where were all those words coming. However he had given up in questioning the teen for his choice of words. Literally. He uncapped his marker and grabbed the teen’s arm, to write on the inside of his forearm.

“Kind.”

From the smile of Stiles, he could see endless trust, where he didn’t question his words.

“Thank you,” he said reaching out for Derek’s arm again, writing also in the inside of his forearm.

“Handsome.”

Derek tensed there for a moment.

“What?” Stiles lifted his hands “You are!”

Derek still didn’t react, a freezing kind of surprise plastered on his face. Stiles lifted his eyebrows and capped the marker turning down the corners of his mouth in a nonchalant way.

“I should be blind and ignorant of what ‘handsome’ means not to notice.”

The wolf let out a strangled sigh that sounded much like someone reaching the ends of their patience.

“Funny,” he wrote on the neck of the teen, since the chest was already covered with words and he didn’t feel like asking him to turn and write on his back.

The teen smirked. He uncapped his marker, and reached for the wolf’s leg. Immediately Derek pulled his leg back.

“What are you doing?” the wolf demanded.

“I want to write on your leg,” Stiles said not understanding what was wrong.

The wolf was a bit wary.

“What’s wrong?” the teen asked, but the wolf wouldn’t reply.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Are you ticklish there?” Stiles smiled. Derek’s lack of reply was his answer. He smiled and reached for the leg again “I won’t tickle you, I promise.”

Derek was adamant about it, but wasn’t exactly pulling away. He pondered whether he should go through this or stand up and end the task.

“It will be the last word, ok?” the teen promised.

Derek let him stretch his leg and pull his pants’ leg up. It was long, shapely and hairy, and nothing like his wax white, scrawny legs. Smiling, he applied the marker gently to the skin and wrote:

“Ticklish.”

“How’s that something good?”

The teen capped the marker and put it down.

“It’s nice to know things like that about you.”

Derek blinked at him.

“But how’s that a positive thing?”

Stiles reached out for the wet cloth and started erasing the words from Derek’s body. He lifted his shoulders.

“It’s just a nice thing,” he said “you are like the rest of us, even with all your wolf skills and powers, you still have things like being ticklish.”


	4. Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a little check up, some exercises and a task that demands a little "hands-on".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for my betas - @shotahunter and @fuckingdarkstiles - , who have been working over time to get this fic done in time and posted. I'm proud to tell you that today I finished - Yes! Finally! - chapter 8. You'll notice, as the story progresses, that the chapters will get longer and longer and longer. There's chapter 9 left now, and I can only hope the boys will behave, and let me do a small-bite chapter. Can't make promises, but I really hope I won't reach the mark I recently reached here.
> 
> I've spent many hours in here, reading fabulous fanfics, and yet never really paid attention to a lot of things, like comments and kudos and bookmarks. Now it's happening to me and I'm so humbled! I get kudos from you, and bookmarks! And visits. Wow. I guess sometimes it's quite surreal to realize that there's people out there reading you. For all of you, Thank You! Know that in your own way, you make me very happy! ^_^
> 
> Probably mistakes have been left in the text and I apologize for that. You know how it goes: add two great betas, a stubborn fanfic writer, shake well using a healthy dose of university and work stress and sprinkle all over with Mercury Retrograde and you'll have a mix of surprise bundles of "whadda hell???"
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fic! ^_^

“Derek! Breakfast!”

Derek picked up himself from the ground where he had been doing his pushups. Perhaps it was due to the rushed tempo they were being forced to be closely acquainted, but it didn’t startle him this time. Truth to be told, he started not to be so disturbed either by that moment of the night when Stiles would go vocal in his dreams, which would probably be funny for some people, to hear him clearly speak nonsense, but wasn’t funny for him, who was now forced to live with the noise pouring out of his mouth day and night. Not even Stiles being asleep was any sort of insurance regarding his pie hole being kept shut. Then there were the wet dreams and the morning wood, which Derek wouldn’t mind so much if the stench of it wouldn’t pool around the covers and wake him up by the strength of it. Not to mention that one awkward waking up was enough, so he had decided to slip out of the bed before the teen would catch up with his dick and rise.

However, as he walked to the table after washing his hands, the scent of bacon, toasts and eggs beckoning him, he realized that though still annoyed him, it didn’t annoy him that much like it did the day before.

“Morning,” Stiles greeted him placing a hot cup of coffee before him and sitting himself, “I hope this time it’s better.”

Derek looked at him, mostly for the teen’s benefit, while his mind kept rolling nonstop on the same subject, as if his train of thought hadn’t even been disturbed. Could it be the effect of the tasks Deaton were giving them? He brought the coffee to his lips and tasted it. It was better.

“Better,” he said as he forked up some eggs and bacon.

“I’m glad,” Stiles smiled “I can still make it better, though.”

The tasks were definitively aimed to make them know each other better, get them more comfortable around each other, Derek reasoned. He looked up at Stiles and wished he would stop the chat and let him think in peace. If he could, he would honestly hang a sign on his forehead that would read “NEURONS AT WORK. DO NOT DISTURB.” Not like he thought Stiles would pay any attention to that, though.

“It’s ok as it is.”

However last night’s task was nearly a disaster. What could have been the point of it? Develop some sort of sensibility towards each other? Let them know what they thought of each other? Have them touch each other’s skin? This got Derek frowning because it made no sense. They knew how they felt about each other, and the first words they wrote on each other where the ones he considered more accurate, as they came to them without much thinking. As for the touching… they had touched each other plenty. Either for slap, punch, hold, push against the wall, threat, but they did. And maybe Deaton had never noticed, but Stiles was quite a touchy person, and he had developed a tendency to casually touch Derek’s arms ever so often. It did nearly jeopardize the whole thing, as far as Derek saw it, because it got them arguing, though then it winded down. Could that have been the purpose? Force them to something unpleasant and have them step out of it? Because if that was the case, he had to hand it to Stiles that he had been the one pulling them both out of the crap.

“So,,,” came Stiles voice a bit awkward “you have plans for today?”

Why couldn’t he at least shut up during breakfast, was beyond Derek, who lifted his eyes to look at him not masking his annoyance. Stiles moved his hands in a defeated manner.

“Trying to make conversation, so it feels like we are eating together, and not by myself… you know… with half the table occupied by someone else.”

Well, it seemed that he wouldn’t catch a break until the kid got to school, and since he had to make this work, he decided to buckle up.

“I have stuff to do,” he said casually.

“Pack stuff?” Stiles smiled concentrating on his breakfast. Derek nodded. “If there’s anything I can help you with…”

“I’ll let you know,” the wolf told him, though he felt more inclined to reply in a more snarky way. How come there was a human in the pack? Right, because there wasn’t really a pack anymore, unless you counted Scott’s mismatched, informal pack, and Stiles was the best friend of the current alpha of the area. And Derek just happened to be around, not entirely sure if he was part of the McCall pack or not. Scott wasn’t formal or even consistent about the forming and the holding up of the pack. For a true alpha, he was still too much of a human, his senses and instincts less sharp, less in place, to the point that it had been Derek the one rushing and aiding pack members while Scott got his footing, and yet he didn’t have the certainty to be part of Scott’s pack, but more like him being just Scott’s acquaintance.

The conversation died as Stiles concentrated again on his plate, and Derek sunk back in his thoughts, experiencing a delicious relief thanks to the ever liberating silence. His mind picked up where it left off, and now tried to see through the game, trying to prepare himself to what was to come. Certainly if it was just sex, Deaton wouldn’t be asking them to do this strange bonding exercise. Could it be that there would be something uncomfortable? Well, aside from now knowing that Stiles had never been with anyone, and that he would be part of Stiles first, and much likely awkward sexual experience, what else could it be there?

“I’m sorry about the mean words I wrote yesterday.”

And there went the delightful peace of mind he was having. He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes and putting down his mug perhaps a little too evidently annoyed. Stilinski looked up at him and chewed on his lip.

“It’s ok,” Derek said hoping to get over the topic as soon as he could.

Stiles shook his head.

“It’s not ok,” he insisted “I was angry and I wanted to hurt you.”

Derek studied his face. From his scent and the pattern of his heartbeats he could tell he was honestly concerned. Why would he be? None of those words came as a surprise to him, and he was older. The opinion a teenager had of him wouldn’t affect him.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Derek took a sip of his coffee.

“I still want to apologize for what I said. It wasn’t what I thought of you.”

Why was Stiles trying so hard? Why was this so important for him to insist so much over such a meaningless matter? A week from then, if Castor was defeated, the little punk would be back at throwing all sorts of words that would intend to hurt him, and making him the suspect of everything from murder to spoiled milk. Could it be that insecurity was the reason why they had to go through this process?

“Ok, apology accepted.”

The kid smiled. It wasn’t an open, relieved smile, but there was some alleviation in it. He nodded shortly and let him be. Then the silence was present between them again and Stiles went back to his breakfast. Derek took the moment to study the teen. Could he be waiting for Derek to take back the words he first wrote on his skin? Because that wasn’t going to happen. Or could that be also part of the exercise? Shall he pretend to regret those words? But then wouldn’t pretending get in the way of getting them closer? His mind went inevitably back to Kate and Jennifer. He didn’t pretend but they did. Both of them got close to him and pretended to like him and love him in order to get something else from him, reach to his family, to his pack, to the people he cared for, to rip it away. Stiles had proved not to be like them, and no matter how much he lied to his father, he had never told a lie to Derek. They weren’t doing this for any pretense of love or even liking, but Derek decided not to become a Kate or a Jennifer for this young man.

 

The day had gone on normally for Stiles. Isaac and Scott mentioned how strong Derek’s was scent on him, and even ventured to ask if “something had been going on”. Ethan wasn’t so “discreet” and downright asked him if he was already practicing sex for ritual, to which an annoyed Stiles casually mentioned that yes, they were, and he was having trouble sitting, in case the wolf and everybody else wondered. He may have said that a bit too loud, because he earned looks from everybody, including Danny, who stared at him frowning in a way that clearly stated that his comment had been tacky.

Mercifully school reached an end, there was no lacrosse practice, and he could leave. Except that it didn’t help the situation, that Derek was there, leaning against the jeep. Ethan smirked too wide for Stiles’ comfort, and Malia couldn’t help but stare, eyes blown wide with surprise and a speck of fear while Danny let his eyes roam up and down Derek’s impressive physique. The eyes of the brunet then jumped to Stiles and looked at him questioning. He wouldn’t wonder about telling him that Derek was his “cousin Miguel”, but rather he wondered how could Stiles land something like Derek. Stiles’ jaw went tense, but he tried to ignore the taunting, adjusting the strap of his backpack and walking to the jeep. The wolf heard him come closer, so he looked up to meet him, noticing then again the entourage following the teen and fixing on him, with the surviving twin alpha and the werecoyote girl among them. He tensed, but he remained calm.

“Hi,” Stiles walked to him.

“What’s that?” he asked not taking his eyes away from the group looking at him. Stiles didn’t even look back.

“I smell like you,” he explained.

There was no more needed. The wolf narrowed his eyes now understanding the leering, Ethan’s smirk and the kids looking at them like there was nothing more interesting in the whole world. Their attention made him feel uncomfortable.

“Deaton called,” he explained while going around the car and getting in as Stiles opened the door from inside “said we must meet him.”

In a way being at Deaton’s with Derek couldn’t keep Stiles from smirking inside. He was at the Animal Clinic with a wolf. Someone sure would understand the irony of the situation. The vet made them walk into the large room where he would check on the pets and animals brought to him. He looked at them for a moment, while they looked back at him.

“Step closer to each other.”

Stiles frowned and looked at Derek before they both took one step closer to each other. Deaton continued looking at them, analyzing them, and the teen had the distinct feeling of being a lab rat.

“Closer.”

None of them dared to say a word, but they again looked at each other and at the gap between them. There wasn’t that much room left, but they stepped closer, close enough to be aware of other body but not touching. Stiles automatically reached for the elbow of the arm close to Derek, as if afraid that his sudden arm-swinging and gesticulating could hurt the wolf. Derek flexed his fist, and purposefully kept his arms to his sides, though he felt like crossing them over his chest. Deaton watched them intently, cold, clinical questioning in his dark eyes. When he had enough, read off them all he needed, he smiled at them.

“How have these days been?” he asked leaning against the counter behind him.

“Fine,” replied Derek shortly.

Stiles looked at him, a sort of relieved apprehension taking over his features. He nodded and looked at Deaton nodding. The vet, however looked at him pointedly, silently demanding a verbal reply.

“Yes, it has been fine,” the younger man replied. However the answer wasn’t nearly enough for the vet, who kept coaxing a longer response out of him. “He’s a great cook,” he smirked pointing at Derek.

Deaton couldn’t hide the beginning of a smile and turned to Derek, who – compelled to reply – nodded towards Stiles saying.

“He does breakfast.”

Stiles smiled content by the comment, though the face of the wolf was kept stony and stoic.

“Do you take at least one meal together at the house every day?”

“Yes.”

“Sleep together?”

Both of them cringed a little before replying.

“Yes.”

Deaton looked at one another analyzing their reaction, his features serious and almost frightening in their severity.

“How about the tasks? Have you been completing them?”

“Yes.”

Deaton took another deliberate pause to study them, noticing how their silent checking was unnerving them, how they shifted their weight from one feet to the other, but kept the distance with a certain stiffness to it. He could tell from how close they stood to each other that their proximity wasn’t so much a problem as the forced proximity and the implications were. In four days they would have to perform a ritual that demanded trust and fluency, and though he knew both Derek and Stiles had that at some level and have shown in moments of fight and crisis, he needed to make sure it would be there when they were forced into an awkward situation. He smiled again to put them at ease.

“I wanted to talk to you about the ritual,” he said.

Both Derek and Stiles nodded, Stiles somewhat more uncomfortable, as he deviated his eyes for a second towards the floor.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said looking at both of them, fixing them with his eyes “it will be awkward. It can even be awkward for people who are involved, and in your case you are not only not involved romantically, but there will be a third party.”

Stiles’ eyes bulged. His first thought was that he was going to have a threesome as his first sexual experience ever… and none of them would be a girl.

“It…” Stiles muttered, one of his eyes slightly closing “will be a threesome?”

Deaton smiled.

“No,” he clarified, and noticed how Derek’s stance relaxed almost imperceptibly. It seemed that even if he was no longer an Alpha, Derek still had some possessive manners about himself that made him wary around Scott. “However, due to the particular nature of this ritual, of the transference that needs to be made towards Scott, you won’t have much room to maneuver.”

Like a match being lit up, Stiles blushed suddenly, brightly, becoming beet red from the roots of his hair to the middle of his chest. Both Deaton and Derek had the delicacy not to mention it, though the wolf turned to look at him quirking up one eyebrow in a nearly disapproving manner and then eyeing Deaton in a way that clearly said “See what I meant? Virgin!”. But the vet didn’t even bat an eye as he continued.

“In this case Stiles will be the conduit. You,” he focused on the wolf “must concentrate on directing all of your life energy into Stiles, while you,” he turned to the still red teen “must collect that energy, keep it inside your body and then push it towards Scott. Scott will be there simply to put his hands on Stiles’ shoulders,” he reached out tapping one of Stiles’ shoulders “and that’s where you must concentrate on directing both your life energy and that you get from Derek.”

Both of them nodded.

“Now,” Deaton continued “for this conduit to work well, Stiles has to be the receptive part.”

A lash of tension was evident between them, but then Stiles laughed nervously trying to dismiss the thick awkwardness setting around.

“I imagined that much, with this dude involved,” he pointed at Derek with his thumb, but not letting go of the self half embrace that seemed to be the only thing now keeping him together. Deaton smiled at him in a comforting manner that did some to ease his nervousness.

“Also,” he turned to Derek, “you can’t turn him around, nor put distance between the two of you. The plexus is an important energy point,” he said reaching out to touch Derek in the middle of his chest, right where their ribcage parted in two “and the more energy you can transfer towards Stiles the better. Is that clear?”

The wolf nodded.

“It’s important that the two of you concentrate on the flow of the energy at all times, because it’s easy to forget and let it out into the thin air,” the vet warned them, turning then again to Derek “You are more sensitive to energy, you can control it better, so you must make sure that it’s flowing always from you to Stiles and not the other way around. It’s possible that Stiles may try to cycle it back to you instead of keeping it inside until transferring it towards Scott. That can’t happen.”

“As for you,” he turned to Stiles and tapped a chair signaling for him to sit. “We’ll make an exercise. Take off your shirt.”

Stiles did as he was told, not quite happily taking off his shirt and discovering his pale, skinny torso before sitting on the chair. Deaton rummaged in his drawers before taking out a small bottle with – what else? – some colored powder. He turned and tapped Stiles’ shoulders and crooking a finger at Derek telling him to stand there with his hands on the teen’s shoulders. The wolf did as he was told, gently placing his big hands on the pale, thin patch of skin and bone. As his fingers came in touch with the young warmth he couldn’t stop remembering when he was that age, already broken, orphan, waking up at night screaming from nightmares of fire.

Deaton touched Stiles’ knees gently to make him spread them a little, and then placed the uncapped glass contained between his legs, pressed against his crotch.

“This tracks energy,” he explained “what I need you to do is to will the powder out of the bottle and up to the middle of your chest” he poked the exact same spot he had on Derek’s chest “and then towards Derek’s hands. Don’t concentrate on Derek, just on the pressure of his hands.”

He looked up at Derek.

“Don’t will the energy towards you. Your only task here is to provide Stiles with a physical point towards which send the energy.”

Of course the exercise was easier said than done. In the beginning Stiles was convinced that the substance was broken, but then little by little the bluish-purplish powder started waving inside the container and then creeping up his pants towards his belly and slowly reaching the center of his chest. It took some more concentration before it would reach Derek’s hands. Deaton, of course, made them practice some more before letting them go.

“If you mind,” Deaton stopped Derek “I would like a word with you in private.”

The wolf nodded turning around. Stiles reached out for his elbow touching him gently to get his attention.

“I’ll wait for you outside,”

“No,” Derek said “you go ahead, I’ll get to the house later.”

The young Stilinski nodded and took off. Derek then waited for the vet to speak.

“You need to relax more around Stiles,” he said, to which the wolf arched up his eyebrows. “It’s against your trust issues,” Deaton explained, “But you need to let yourself trust Stiles, let yourself be comfortable around him.”

Derek looked away reigning his irritation. Trusting someone who nearly burned down the house where they were staying? Someone who rushed where fools and angels wouldn’t dare? Sure, he did think that Stiles was dependable, but this whole situation was far from ideal to trust a nervous virgin.

“Stiles is already reaching out towards you,” Deaton said earning a shocked expression from the wolf “You are the one keeping the fences up.”

The wolf’s jaws tensed. Was Deaton telling him that this was failing and it was because of him?

****

Regardless of what he said and the general ideas Stiles had about the ritual and what his part would be in it – though honestly he didn’t even go as far as picturing in his head what would exactly happen – it actually took him by surprise to hear that he should, basically, spread his legs for the wolf. He tried to reason with himself, how there was no way in hell Derek would roll over and let him penetrate him, still hearing it so blatantly shocked him. This was how it was going to happen, on his back, spreading his thighs, letting a wolf that wouldn’t trust him to boil an egg to fuck him up his ass, watching him, watching his own body… forced to do something, not just lie there. Thousands of clips from porn videos rushed to his mind. This time thinking of them was deeply embarrassing, because one thing was to imagine Lydia horny, on all fours wanting him to put it inside her, and completely another imagining himself in Lydia’s position waiting for Derek to ram it into him.

He chewed on his lips as he drove home, trying to fit the idea in his mind, trying not to escape. He tried to convince himself that it wouldn’t be so bad, after all people did it because it was enjoyable, right? Or was it a lie? All those pleasure contorted faces where a lie? Gay guys did it and presumably liked it, so why wouldn’t he like it?

‘Because I’m not gay,’ a voice inside his head reminded him.

Well, maybe he wasn’t gay, but he was bi. After all, no matter what a jackass Jackson was, he had to admit to himself that the guy was a walking-talking wet dream.

‘Yeah,’ the voice in his head reminded him ‘and other than kissing him and touching him, and maybe sucking him off, how far have your fantasies gone? Thinking of him up your ass?’

“Damned,” Stiles hit the wheel drive. His head wasn’t cooperating at all. Well, this wasn’t about being attracted or doing it because he had the burning desire to get in bed with Derek and fuck all the way through the Age of Aquarius, this was about something they needed to do in order to push up their chances to survive. So like it or not, he would strap on and go through. He had already skidded death to save his dad, he had fought and survived the Nogitsune, so spreading them for Derek wasn’t really the worse thing he had done for the greater good. And who knows? Maybe he would enjoy it.

This made him laugh. Yeah, enjoy sex with Derek. Enjoy anal sex with Derek, where Derek would be the one pushing it up his ass. Right. Because that was really going to work out well.

By the time he got to the tiny house, he decided to suck it up (honestly, no pun intended), man up to the task and rather research the subject to be prepared. Had to admit that it was the first time he was going to watch porn and dread it. That was a first in his short life, but then again, this seemed to be a week for all sorts of awkward first times, which would culminate with his first time, which would also be awkward. Today homework would have to wait, though he really felt tempted to tackle the chemistry homework – that was an odd first one too! – instead of researching. He had watched plenty of porn, to know the basics about anal sex, and believe it or not, he didn’t really feel like watching it again, though he knew he had very much enjoyed many of them. However this time the thought of enjoying it felt embarrassing and somewhat wrong. Instead he opted for as many scientific and semi-scientific articles he could find on the matter, trying to look at it from a merely objective, clinical point of view and keeping away from his head as much as he could the thought of… Derek doing it to him.

The internet was filled with sites and sites about what anal sex was, and how could be made more pleasurable. Some things he read made him slap down his laptop and wish he could unread them. Then again, reading those things and knowing they would be done to him (okay, maybe nobody would shove a hose up his ass to clean him out before shoving something else in) really made him uncomfortable. The thought of having to be fingered to loosen up and make the penetration less painful (read: it’s going to be painful anyway) really made him uncomfortable in more levels than he cared to consider, because, would Derek actually take the time to do it? And if he did… how awkward would that be? He would hardly talk to him during meals, would hardly acknowledge his existence unless absolutely necessary, so… yeah, better not think about that. Then, would that mean that he would have to do it to himself? And how odd would be to slip his own fingers up his ass with Scott and Derek there? Should he do it prior to that?

He turned to look at the door. Derek wasn’t there yet and he was grateful for that. It was embarrassing as it was, all by himself, he probably wouldn’t be able to go through all of this with the wolf stretched on the couch reading, probably growling at the scent of his fear and embarrassment. However, this couldn’t go on like this, and for the Nth time, Stiles demanded of himself to buckle up and keep going for the good of the planet. He would, though, demand a medal for his heroic actions. Yes, he should be given a Purple Heart, because all pointed that he would get definitively wounded in service.

Hoping that Derek would take a little longer to arrive, he decided to take his research on a less cyber-based direction and more of a ‘hands-on’ approach. Sadly, pun intended this time around. He turned off his laptop and went for a shower. His hands trembled as they undressed him, pants tangling on his long legs, nearly making him fall on his ass and hit his head in the wall. He took several deep breaths before stepping into the tiny shower.

“This is research, just research,” he reminded himself.

The water was gentle on him, hot drops pelting off his skin in a nice kind of massage. He stood under the water for a while, thinking, relaxing, trying to figure out how come his life had come to this. He thought of Scott, and wondered for a moment if it would be as difficult with him. He found himself realizing that it wouldn’t, that his embarrassment would be there, but that he could rely on Scott’s generous heart, in him being his best friend in the whole world, who would be probably there, in the shower with him, trying to make things better. He had to smile and that made him feel better. He purposefully kept Derek away from his thoughts and let the memory of his best friend keep him company for a while. He wouldn’t think of what would actually happen, just think this is yet another thing he will do to satisfy his curiosity, something he may or may not share later on with his brother from another mother.

He grabbed the soap bar and lathered it between his hands before reaching between his legs. His dick was limp against his wrist and didn’t really seem like up to play. Stiles still touched it a little, trying to decide whether he should try and masturbate as well, see how it works, but then decided against it. Instead he reached again for the soap, lathered his hands some more and turned to face the tiles, resting his forehead against them. Slowly, trying to calm himself, he let his right hand slide down his butt, searching for his ass. His left arm lifted, pressing next to his head, hand ready in case he needed to bite down into something. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he tried to push his fingers against the little bud between his ass cheeks, but his asshole seemed to have other ideas. He pressed again and it wasn’t giving in. His hands were already feeling cold and shaking.

“Come on, Stiles,” he berated himself, “let’s do this.”

He pressed his forehead harder into the tiles and then started pressing his index finger in against the strong resistance of his own body. It was only when the anger surpassed his own fear and resistance that his finger pushed it, creating such an uncomfortable, disturbing feeling he quickly pulled it out again. His right hand came to rest against the tiles, next to his head, probably making him look like he was about to be patted down. His chest felt tight and his breathing was chunky and loud. He stood there, letting the water rain down on him before his hands curled into fists.

“Again,” he ordered himself.

He reached again for the soap, lathered his hands and went down again. He pressed his face hard against the tiles, gritting his teeth hard, jaws tense, as he forced his index finger again into his protesting body. Against the shame, the discomfort and the bad-disturbing feelings, he kept pushing his finger in to the hilt. His body was tight and resenting the intrusion. It wasn’t so much painful as it was… plain bad. It didn’t hurt – that one finger – but he definitively wasn’t enjoying having it there. Biting his lips, he decided to move his finger, but as it started to slid in and out just a tiny bit, the sensation of it, exactly as if he were sitting on the toilet, was so strong, so present and so disturbing, he pulled his finger out with a hiss and slid down in the shower sitting and looking up to the ceiling.

His chest hurt and he couldn’t seem to be able to catch his breath. His hands fisted and let go for moments as he tried to get a grasp of the world again, arrange his thoughts and have his plan of action. That had been bad, and it had been only one index finger, for just a couple of seconds. What would be like with Derek? Because sure as hell Derek was far thicker than his index finger and he really, really didn’t want to think about that body part of Derek… or Derek at all. It had been bad, really bad. He didn’t like it. At all. Yeah, probably his dad was right, he wasn’t gay, and maybe he wasn’t bi either. Finding guys attractive was just a… a phase. Jackson was fucking handsome, after all, but no, he wouldn’t be able to do that because he wanted, not when he knew now that it would feel like fucking shitting.

His eyed filled with tears as he thought that he still had to put himself through it, and that it might feel like rape. How would he do that? How would he open his body and let Derek push his fucking dick and his energy into it? He banged his head into the wall behind himself a couple of times, trying to breath deep then before standing up and getting out of the shower.

He had committed to it, he wouldn’t be defeated. He would do it. Then he would never, ever talk to Derek, and maybe would hit him with his jeep, make him into road kill, and never, ever think about it.

He dried himself and dressed rubbing his head with the towel. Derek wasn’t home yet. The tiny house was dark as the daylight had receded slowly and he hadn’t turn up the lights. His homework was still in his backpack, but he now didn’t feel like facing it. Instead he decided to walk into the kitchen and take advantage of Derek’s absence to try out his incipient cooking skills.

Derek had stocked up the pantry with all sorts of food, from pop tarts and dry instant soups to actual veggies, some apples and bananas and then there was some beef and some chicken in the freezer. Most of Stiles’ cooking skills were computer connected, as he had tagged some cooking videos in his computer, but right now didn’t feel like reaching out for it. He did remember, however that there was nothing easier than soup. Just water, veggies, some meat, salt, pepper, and that was it. Well, that would do it. Hopefully he wasn’t messing with whatever weekly menu plan the wolf had.

He looked for the largest pot he could find and filled it with water putting it on the stove and starting to heat it up. He then went for the things that would go into it, picking here and there for stuff, and – of course - some chicken drumsticks. His thoughts and worries stilled as he concentrated on washing the veggies and cutting them in quarters or halves or what have you, as well as the chicken, and praying he was doing it well. Then salt, pepper, stir, taste, more salt, more pepper, stir, taste and repeat until it tasted nicely seasoned. He let it boil and then brought it to low heat.

His eyes went for the door that Derek wasn’t coming through yet. He couldn’t avoid feeling apprehensive about that. What should he do now with himself? Normally his computer would occupy him just fine, but right now, with his ass still a bit resented, he didn’t want to be anywhere near porn or research or anything of that matter.

His legs took him to the couch where he found Derek’s book. Probably he had taken it to read after he had gone to school. It was strange to think that the book was sort of mapping Derek’s last quiet places in the house. He sat on the couch and grabbed the book. It amazed him again how old it was, how battered and how soft in his hands. The worn edges had a nearly velvety feel to them. His body slid in the couch until he was laying on it, head against the armrest, book in his hands. It was a copy of Neuromancer. Neuromancer. Why would Derek be attracted to a book with such a title? He would. Oh yes, Stiles would because “neuromancer” sounds like “necromancer” and anything and everything about gory deaths have always picked his curiosity.

Before he could stop himself, his right index finger was slipping easily between the cover and the first pages, and the book was slowly, nicely opening. A price scribbled on a corner of the first page made Stiles’ eyebrows arch up. Derek bought used books? He tried to imagine him brooding, frowning, leather clad and walking among shelves piled with old books, carefully looking at the spines, picking one here and there, reading into it. Okay, maybe now, after having seen him silently, quietly consumed in reading, he could see that.

His fingers caressed the edge of the book and slid between the pages before he could notice, bringing him to the beginning of the story. The clicking of the doorknob startled him, jumping up from where he had practically curled up in the couch, book clenched between his fingers as the door opened and the wolf walked in. He was frowning as he if where trying to understand groundbreaking changes happening around him. The scent of chicken soup, the silence in the tiny house and then Stiles jumping up from the couch – not from his laptop – with… was that his book?

His eyes focused pointedly on the book still in Stiles’ hand and then up to his face, clearly demanding an explanation. The teen followed his eyes to the book in his hand and quickly let go of it, placing it back on the coffee table, lifting his hands then over his head.

“I… I was just…” he looked at the book, at Derek, and tried to find a plausible excuse “I’m… sorry?”

Derek frowned, finding the whole thing odd.

“Are you cooking?”

“Had to take advantage of you not being here,” he tried to smile, though was still a little jumpy to get that one right.

Derek closed the door behind himself and walked to the kitchen while peeling off his jacket and throwing it on the couch. Stiles followed him.

“Why aren’t you at your laptop?”

“Didn’t feel like it,” the teen twisted his mouth looking at his laptop and pointedly trying to ignore what he had been checking on it and then what happened in the bathroom, especially since the sinking feeling that he would fuck up this whole thing was more than what he wanted to deal with at the moment.

Derek actually stopped and turned to look at him, his expression that of someone who just came to meet aliens from deep space face to face. His lips remained sealed, but those light green eyes roamed his face as if expecting to see him turn green or something. His questions remained in his head though, and this time Stiles was grateful for that. The weight of his gaze, however, was heavy on him and he felt the need to avert his gaze while being examined.

“I hope you like chicken soup,” Stiles said leaning against the column that separated the kitchen from the rest of the space, as Derek walked into the kitchen and peered into the bubbling pot. He stirred the soup and tasted it.

“This is good,” he noted.

Three words and Stiles’ world changed dramatically. Things weren’t so bad after all. Three words gave him a boost of happiness, and he was going to grab into that and wouldn’t let it go.

“Would you like some noodles with it?” the wolf asked while he was already filling another pot with water.  
“Sure,” Stiles said walking to the pantry and taking out a bag of noodles.

Derek put the pot on the stove and salted the water before pulling the bag out of Stiles’ hands, as he was trying to open it with his teeth.

“This is for mac and cheese,” he put it back and instead pulled another that looked like a bunch of ballerina hair buns.

Stiles leaned against the counter and watched him for a moment. He wasn’t going to start an argument about backing off and letting him finish dinner.

“Any news?”

Derek turned his head towards him, but not completely, didn’t even made the effort to look up at him, only a turn enough to let him know he had acknowledged his question.

“Not really.”

He wasn’t going to tell him how it was him the one failing because he wasn’t able yet to open and trust the teen. Deep down a voice told him that the first step was to tell him everything, even if it was meaningless, even if that put him in a place where Stiles would yell and place the blame thickly on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to that.

“Good, no more surprises then,” the teenager said pushing from the counter and going for the plates and cutlery.

Derek stared at the water in the pot, willing it to boil. Not like that ever made a difference.

“Got tested,” he said after a couple of seconds.

“Tested?” Stiles had fished out two spoons to go with the two soup bowls and was walking past him to put them on the table. “You’ve got to play with magic powder too?”

Derek tightened his jaws, eyes glaring at the water that barely bubbled tiny, thin bubbles on the bottom and sides of the pot, like a million transparent fish eggs. He could hear the teen moving his laptop aside and setting the table.

“For STD.”

“STD?” Stiles walked back wearing a frown on his face “Werewolves can get that?”

Derek was still looking into the slowly boiling water as if the secrets of the universe were hidden there, while his jaws tensed, popping under his skin.

“I’m clean,” he said as calmly as he could, which came out in an unusually low voice.

Stiles looked at him as if he were a ten thousand piece puzzle he were trying to solve. Then it downed on him.

“Oh…” he stepped back, feeling cold spread in his chest “Oh God.”

His head spun, and as he turned it he caught the wolf looking at him concerned. He really would have wished if Derek would be his usual, detached, can’t-care-less-even-if-he-really-tried self, because the actual concern in his features was making him feel even more exposed. Because, really, all he needed right now was to flood his own head with flashbacks of his own finger pushing awkwardly up his ass, and then add some really thick… thing… pushing up there and coming inside him.

“It seems today is Awkward-Wednesday.”

Derek’s mouth twitched, a corner pulling slightly towards his ear before quickly falling back into his eternal no-emotion setting.

“It seems so.”

Dinner went on in silence, quietly, while both of them spooned soup into their mouths and tried to deal with the turbulent set of thoughts that plagued their heads and shadowed their hearts. Silent would have stayed so until they turned to sleep if it weren’t for the now dreaded beep of his phone signaling the task of the day. They both stopped eating and stared at the phone and then at each other, like two children trying to decide whether to open the door behind which monsters and ghost hid.

Stiles reached for the phone and looked at the message.

“Yeah, well,” he said, and then read “’Massage. Hands on skin, not over clothes’,” he put down the phone and spooned some more soup into his mouth “I actually could use a neck massage.”

 

After dinner they moved to the couch.

“Neck massage then?” Derek asked signaling Stiles to turn his back to him.

Stiles nodded and then took off his t-shirt for the third time that day. Derek knelt up behind him and watched those pale shoulders, slightly hunching and the nape of the neck stretching as the teen’s head hung forward. Moles peppered those shoulders, that neck, and spread across his skin, here and there, playfully mapping a chasing game. How could those fragile shoulders hold such a heavy burden? Before him was this boy, as old as his kid sister Cora, giving into something he himself could barely grasp. It made him feel guilty how things were worse on his side, him being human, a teen, a virgin, not even out of highschool, and being made to give up his everything for a war that wasn’t even his to fight.

Derek would have hugged him if he could, then pack his things and send him away in the middle of the night, far, somewhere no werewolf, no druid, no trouble would ever catch up with him. His hands landed softly on his shoulders, somewhat muscled, nice, yet not as packed as his own body. His stronger body that would yet carry a lighter weight. His hands tightened on the kid, thumbs rubbing the soft, soap scented skin. The muscles beneath his fingers were knotted, rolling under his fingers like pebbles, so he worked them careful not to cause pain to the teen with not much avail. He wanted somehow to tell him that everything would be ok, but he couldn’t. How could he? Ask him to trust him? With what? How could he make any of this ok for this boy, other than making him escape in the dead of night?

His thumbs snuck up to the teen’s neck and rubbed circles there earning a faint sigh.

“That’s good…”

He slid his hands gently up the teen’s shoulders to his neck and pressed his thumbs there, rubbing and caressing up from the base and into his hair, feeling each vertebrae beneath his hands, the sweet, warm column of his neck give into his ministrations. His own hands seemed huge against the tender pale neck, soft and velvety to the touch, he couldn’t stop thinking of a tiny bird held in his hands. The youngster’s scent changed softly, rising warm to his nostrils mingled with calm. Slowly, as his fingers pushed up against his scalp he would push his head into the touch and let a silent moan escape.

Stiles’ skin was nice to the touch, and he could imagine spending a considerably long time there, rubbing it, feeling it slide beneath his fingers, but when almost ten minutes had passed and the teen remained gently submitted to his ministrations, he started considering that perhaps this was already becoming too much.

“That enough?”

Stiles made a guttural sound, much like a whine of laziness, before replying.

“I can sit here and let you do that all the way into the next fall, so it’s up to you.”

Derek was grateful Stiles was sitting back to him, so he wouldn’t see the pleased smile on his face. He patted the side of his shoulder to tell him it was time to turn. He was taking off his shirt when the fingers of the kid gently touched his elbow.

“Um, Derek?”

He turned to look at him. From his biting his lips he could already figure out he wouldn’t like whatever the teen had to say.

“I’m not good at giving neck massages or backrubs.”

His arms fell to his sides. Great. Well, it wasn’t like he was really needing a back rub all that badly.

“So this is it for tonight?”

Stiles looked away chewing his lower lip evidently having more to say. Hopefully he wouldn’t say he was good at prostate massages, because Derek was going to be passing that one (and knowing Stiles, anything and everything was possible).

“I’m actually good at… foot massages.”

Derek’s eyes went wide.

“No.”

The man next to him looked up with the most endearing puppy eyes ever. Really, nearly Isaac-like.

“I’m really good at them, Derek! I won’t tickle you! I promise!”

He stared at him but wouldn’t move.

“Please, Derek.”

Deaton’s words resonated in his head. It was him, the problem was him. He was the one pulling walls and fences up. It was him making this whole thing fail. Here was a kid who had accepted to spread his legs to him, take him in his body, make his first experience a semi-public thing with a man he didn’t love, exposed to his best friend, ashamed, and instead of running, held his turf and all that was going to be a waste of effort because Derek couldn’t bring himself to trust him. What was he waiting for? Stiles to offer his neck for a bite to be turned, maybe to carve his own heart out of his chest and offer it to him?All he had to do was to trust, when this kid was already shelling his self out.

Sighing he fell back on the couch and started taking off his shoes and socks. The teen sat at the other end of the couch and as he bared his feet, he carefully took them in his hands and pressed one of them to his chest.

“Which parts are ticklish?”

Derek winced.

“From the knee down.”

Stiles scrunched his nose and then reached for the legs of his jeans pulling them up.

“Um,” he twisted his mouth “would you mind taking them off?”

It was about trust, right? Derek fought the urge to say no and walk away, or ask why. Instead he undid his belt and slid his jeans off placing his feet again on Stiles’ lap. The teen then took one of them again and put it against his chest. Through the sole of his foot, Derek could feel the young steady heartbeat, and found it oddly comforting.

Stiles carefully leaned forward pressing his wrists to just under Derek’s knees and started rubbing them in circles.

“Let me know if I tickle you.”

“I will,” the wolf replied “I’ll kick you.”

Stiles smiled and continued slowly rubbing those quite nice, soft circles into his shins, sliding ever so slowly. By the time he was rubbing under the swell of his calves using the heels of his hands, Derek had slid on the couch, head against the arm rest and enjoying it. The teen worked silently on his leg, sending that nice, spicy warmth up his skin and soaking him in it, like a cub rubbing on his older brother to mark him as his pack, but yet with an amazing expertise in actually making it feel incredibly well. Thoughts melted in his head and all his worry and guilt were put on hold for some other time.

Soon the wolf was like a ragdoll in his hands, eyes closed, letting him manipulate his legs, bring the other one to his chest to rest while thumbs now pushed into the soles of his feet, and the heels of his hands pressed against the arc of it, stretching and making it feel amazing. From one leg to the next, he was pleasantly made aware of nerves and muscles and couldn’t possibly remember what a bad case of tickles he used to have. He could do that, stay there for… pretty much… ever? Yeah, forever sounded nice.

Right then Stiles’ phone beeped. The hands softened their hold on his feet, and he complained before he could stop himself.

“Do you really have to take that?”

It was the sound of Stiles’ amused smile what brought him back to the world where he wasn’t actually supposed to say things like that. The teen’s left hand remained gently holding both of his feet as he reached for the phone. Then there was a frown.

“It’s from Deaton.”

Derek sat up pulling his feet from Stiles’ lap and folding one beneath himself. Then the teen’s eyes bulged wide and paled.

“Something wrong?”

One hand rubbed down the face of the teen remaining then cupped before his mouth while he simply gave his phone to the wolf.

‘From tonight on you must sleep together naked.’

His eyes widened. The bed was narrow as it was, and Stiles moved quite some, ended up usually pushing his butt or his head against him, nearly pushing him out of bed. While so far it hadn’t been comfortable, a naked Stiles tossing and turning and maybe even pushing against a naked him would certainly open a new era of awkwardness for him.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t,” Derek gave the phone back to Stiles. “It’s been awkward enough as it is.”

The teen looked at the wolf, but his watering eyes and stuttering heart talked of panic.

“Stiles,” the wolf slid closer, one hand reaching out to the nape of the teen, rubbing circles into it “we can back off if you want to. We will find another way.”

Those long hands went up into his hair, fisting into it as he hid his face between the knees he had brought up.

“Stiles.”

The teen breath a couple of times then lifted his head, a frown of determination on his face.

“No, it’s ok. It’s not a big deal. Just… awkward nudity,” he reasoned mostly with himself. “It’s been an awkward couple of days and… sleeping naked with another dude – something I haven’t even done with Scott – isn’t even the most awkward thing we will be doing before the week is over, right?”

Derek’s hand on the nape of his neck felt nice and warm, comforting and safe. The wolf wanted to tell him to run away, to stop braving up, that he had no need to do so. He wanted to tell him that it was okay to freak out and that he should just take his things and run, go back to his dad, be a normal kid and forget about all the supernatural things that lived in Beacon Hills.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen naked guys before,” Derek tried awkwardly to comfort him.

“Yeah,” Stiles tried to reply “we had plenty of that with Jackson running and doing the Kanima thing only to pop up stark naked in the most inconvenient places.”

Derek allowed himself to laugh a little even though no part of the Kanima experience had been fun. However, inspite of all they said in the couch, as the time came to sleep awkwardness settled heavy in the tiny room. They both turned their backs at each other as they took off their clothes and then slipped under the covers, pointedly trying to not touch. Derek could feel the edge of the mattress pressing against his thigh, but there was no power on earth that would make him slide closer to the center of the bed. Stiles had curled himself around his pillow, with his back to the wolf, and a cold tunnel coiled between them under the covers making its presence and the lack of clothes loud. Derek forced himself to read, finding it hard to concentrate, until at one point he realized that the teen had fallen peacefully asleep and his body, now lacking clothes, had also lost its tension. He closed his book and set it on the nightstand turning off the lamp. He took a moment to watch that back and those shoulders, now so small and fragile.

Guilt soaked him watching the kid. Stiles was just a child, he shouldn’t be doing this. Guilt swelled ugly in his chest, a voice in his heart telling him that he should man up, that no survival was going to be worth the pain and the humiliation the teen was being put through. He used to be an alpha, and he was still a born wolf that should know better. He should die on his feet, fighting rather than letting children disgrace themselves, punch holes of sorrow around their hearts, being possessed by demons or defiling their own bodies for a shot.

His hand reached out and slowly slid the back of his index finger down the supple shoulder blade of Stiles. This was a boy he was supposed to protect, a kid that had risked his fragile humanity countless of times to save his ass. Letting him do this wasn’t the way to repay for all the pain and hurt and risk he had taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So-called fun fact: Did you know (well, actually you can't know that), that this fic was born because I was writing another fic that was supposed to be a Sterek but was becoming so Steter that I had to stop for a "moment" and sharp up my "Sterekian-skills" up? I wasn't even expecting to finish this one because it was supposed to be just a sharpening tool for my proper perception of Sterek. Go figure.
> 
> As for that other one, by now it's an AU, since it was started in the middle of 3A, and I choose to ignore Jennifer, because, yeah. I've no idea still how to reinforce the Sterek in that one, but the Steter in it... I like. :-)


	5. Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought Yesterday was awkward, you haven't seen today. Waking up naked and dealing with it. Derek starts getting a little bit more concerned about Stiles, and Stiles still tried to figure out how to make things work. Today is not an easy day at the tiny house, and the gloom in their hearts, their concern is mounting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) Keeping up my tempo, as you can see! Got kudos and comments! Yay! I feel famous! Thank you, thank you for petting my ego the way you do! ^_^
> 
> In this chapter there was a first part that should have gone in italics, but I couldn't, for my life make it work. Yeah, it was hell. So you have to only imagine it, ok? It's the first four paragraphs. Could you, please, just imagine they are in italics? I promise I'll figure how this works properly for the next fic I publish. Yes, there will probably be more. Or did you think I'm a one-Sterek-fanfic kind of writer? Oh, no, no, no no.
> 
> Now the important thing: all mistakes in this text - and this time there will be many - are due to Mercury Retrograde. Yep. One of my betas, Darling @Shotahunter, has been captured by her work and forced to attend a business diner. Awful thing. The other, Sweet @FuckingdarkStiles has been dealing with a lot as well, not to mention a certain annoying fanfic writer (who? me? Noooo!) who has been sending her chapters quite late and demanding her to have them checked in... 72 hours? Like she didn't have anything else to do with her life. My Goodness, writers today. I can't believe them.
> 
> So, though Sweet @FuckingdarkStiles did check his chapter, I did some changes, so most of the rights are her and @Shotahunter's accomplishment, and all the wrongs left... are Mercury's.

His body was pressed. He could still move it and it felt good, but it was still pressed. Hard muscles were pushing at his back, at his chest, and his sides, as if wrapping him all around. The body of an angel, an ubiquitous angel that covered him and laid over him, under him, moving, rubbing, feeling good. His eyes could hardly adjust to what was happening, and neither shapes nor landscapes could be defined, but then none of that mattered as his body was being rubbed so good. His ears filled with wanton moans, his own, those of someone else, and he could feel hands roaming his body, mouths sliding down his skin. They were everywhere. His throat vibrated, though he couldn’t say if he was speaking or even making a sound, a real sound, as all of the sounds he felt like making, his moans and his chant for more, seemed to come directly from his chest, his skin, and on the wake of where those mouths placed kisses on him.

Shame tainted his cheeks a little, and a part of his mind told him that he shouldn’t be doing such things, but he couldn’t help pushing his hips back, round his ass out, against the body pressed to his butt and plead for more.

‘More… more… more… more… please… more…’

Voices spoke to him in sounds he couldn’t decipher, but the seductive tone shot fire into him, igniting something in his penis, behind his balls, along his perineum and in his ass. Needy, desperate, he pushed his ass back, lifting his hips, offering his lower body parts completely to the ubiquitous angel. The tension in his body, from lifting on hands and knees, just barely, was delicious, and he rocked his body, shamelessly.

‘More… please… more…’

Then the angelic body pushed, pushed from all sides, squeezing him, rubbing his flesh and penetrating him through every nook and cranny, filling his ass, his mouth, entering his penis, soaking through his skin, a gentle fire that pooled low in his genital and anal area, growing hotter and hotter and slowly pushing up, to the center of his body, making everything collapse in fire. Intense, delicious, sensational fire.

****

 

The sound of wild, crazy horses about to stomp him woke Derek up in panic. He slid back on his hands until his back was to the headboard, eyes frantically looking for danger and not finding it, even though the deafening noise was still there as he was awake. The pungent stench of arousal was so thick he not only could cut it with a knife, but he would have to put some elbow grease into it. What was going on?

Then, as the tiny room remained peaceful and no other sign told anything about wild horses, he noticed that the noise and the stench were coming from the bed. His eyes slowly turned to the teen sleeping next to him, and his eyes bulged. It weren’t wild horses, it was the teen’s heart. His body was heated up, sweating profusely, aroused, his breathing elaborate, but unlike the other wet dreams that had woken up the wolf, this time the teen was perfectly still… and silent. Not a word, not a groan escaped his lips. However the way his heart was beating wasn’t normal, and out of impulse, Derek reached out to shake him up and wake him, but as his fingertips touched the teen’s shoulder something like a hot electric discharge ran through him all the way to his elbow. He quickly pulled back his hand scared, then looking around, trying to figure out if there was something unnatural taking possession of Stiles, but there seemed to be no such thing, or at least not something he could sense. It did seem that the teen’s heart rate had slowed when he touched him, for it clearly picked up to get back to the wild chase tempo.

Biting his lips, Derek reached for Stiles’ shoulder again and shook him.

“Stiles!” he tried to wake him up while his hands seemed to be burning, barely able to keep them on the teen’s shoulders, and his veins bulged up as they did when they absorbed pain, except that this time they were glowing white and it didn’t feel like pain. It felt like tapping into a nuclear plant, a hot light-like energy shooting into his chest and made him feel accelerated, as if he were suddenly turning into Stiles.

“Stiles! Wake up!”

His hand grabbed tighter on the shoulder of the teen, tightening his jaw trying to keep his claws from coming out and digging into the soft, heated flesh of the kid. The blazing heat was leaking out of Stiles, rushing into his body as a sort of wild fire, heating his eyeballs from behind, while the teen’s heart rate seemed to undulate, slower a tad as the flood pushed harder into Derek, only to pick up again, as if some invisible force were being let loose somewhere deep inside him, escaping, seeking out the wolf.

“STILES!”

The body of the teen went through a violent spasm, knees and elbows jumping towards his stomach and he moaned and sobbed as he came. Derek took his hand off the teen and pulled away as far as the narrow bed would let him. The scent was strong and the situation was far beyond awkward, with the teen opening his eyes, confused, moving his head around, one cheek smeared with drool, but his heart rate was pretty much normal, the heat coming from his body wasn’t burning anymore, though his fingers felt as if he would have leaned against a hot plate, and for some reason his body wasn’t healing the uncomfortable feeling as fast as he would have liked it.

“Uhh… wha-?” Stiles tried to remember where he was, but as he tried to get up, his thighs and belly rubbed against something uncomfortably sticky. “Oh… no,” he looked underneath himself – not like he could see anything in the dark, but as he lifted his body and ducked his head, the unmistakable smell of freshly spilled cum hit him.

He collapsed on the bed with a moan of mortification.

“If you’ve ever wanted to kill me,” he said to Derek without daring to lift his face “this is the time to do it.”

Derek watched him, senses focused on the teen. Heart was back to normal, breathing was back to normal. What had that been?

“Are you feeling ok?”

Was Derek really asking him that?

“I’m naked in bed with YOU, lying in a wet spot because I just came in a dream. What do you think, GENIUS!?”

“Anything hurts?” Derek asked as if Stiles would have said nothing of what he had said, ignoring completely how embarrassing this was for the teen.

“You mean other than my dignity?”

He didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Derek. The wolf remained silent and still next to him, and he could feel his eyes burning holes into his back. Probably he was pissed off, rolling his eyes and considering whether to kick him out to sleep on the couch or go himself and sleep on the couch. Stupid teen body. First time sleeping naked with a guy and THIS had to happen. It had to be his very personal Stilinski curse. Then the bed shifted and the heat next to him was gone as he could hear Derek’s heavy steps across the floor.

His stomach sunk. Things have been awkward and Derek was trying to get out of this – that much was obvious – and he, instead of trying and make things better, had to come and make them worse. He rubbed his face hard into the pillow and really, really wished to die. Could embarrassment kill? Because he should be dying right about now, and he wouldn’t even complain, really. Actually dying would be so much better that keep on living and having to face Derek after this. This had to be the worse day of his life, and he have had pretty sucky ones.

Suddenly then there was a hand gently on his head.

“Here,” Derek offered him a wet cloth “clean yourself up.”

The surrealism of the situation was such that Stiles had to lift his face from the pillow and stare in awe at the wolf. The wolf’s fingers slid softly from his head, drawing a mindless caress, a soft drag much like the one he had pushed against the base of his head during the neck rub. His facial expression wasn’t angry or anything he could relate to, but perhaps a little bit more like the way he used to look at his betas… though less feral.

“Put this beneath you,” he put another cloth next to his head, then seemed to check his face for whatever sign before getting up and walking around the bed and falling back on his side.

Stiles quickly did his best to clean himself up and then extend the dry cloth where the wet spot spread beneath him.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

A low growl replied.

“And… I’m sorry… about…”

“Stiles!” the wolf next to him turned brandishing his well known annoyance “It’s three in the morning and I would like to sleep, so either you go back to sleep right now or I’ll punch you into it.”

“Okay, okay, geez…” Stiles dropped the wet cloth on the floor and did his best to get comfortable for sleeping “and to think that I was the one rudely woken up in the middle of the night.”

The body next to him tensed up and a stifled sigh was heard.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” the wolf said visibly struggling to keep his sudden anger in check. Why was he even mad about?

“No, ok,” Stiles pulled closer to the edge of the bed “sleeping now.”

Derek stayed on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Perhaps that didn’t come up right, but it seemed to have helped the teen get past the deep embarrassment. He did want to make him feel better, but this all came up in a way he didn’t expect. He wasn’t mad at Stiles, he was mad at himself. His fists clenched next to him, trying to fight the feeling of being utterly useless. What had he been thinking? Still acting like an alpha, still trying to care for a pack that was no longer his, that didn’t consider him a leader, when he couldn’t even look out after one kid like Stiles, a teen that was much tougher and much resilient that what you would give him credit for. He couldn’t even express concern properly, couldn’t care, couldn’t teach, couldn’t lead as he should. How would he make this happen? Get there, do his thing and keep piling on the teen, expecting him to figure things out and make them good? He did that all the time, he had to admit it, whenever he felt scared or guilty or awkward he would resource to just about anything to pick a fight and ignore the whole situation. But that wasn’t solving things. He was still letting Stiles carry all this on his shoulders.

He should man up.

Stiles had to admit that he had never been so grateful at waking up alone as he was that morning. His eyes opened before the alarm went off, and as he lied there, on his stomach, face turned towards Derek’s side, he wouldn’t avoid feeling still too mortified to function. He came in bed… and Derek was widely awake next to him, waking him up actually so who knows what sort of embarrassing sounds he must have been making to wake up the wolf. His hand sneaked out and ghosted over where the wolf had slept, fingers barely caressing the dent left by his body on the pillows and crumpled sheets. They were cold, so that meant that he had woken up a while ago. Probably he was out in the back yard already, doing pushups or something, while the teen laid in the bed, still fighting his shame.

He remained in there, digging his fingers in the wound of his shame, simmering in the heat of embarrassment until the alarm went off.

“Get past it, Stiles,” he said to himself “just suck it up and get on with the program.”

It was a hard start and he told himself many, many things, among them he reminded himself of the fact that, well he was actually supposed to do that in a few days, not only in front of the wolf, but pressed naked against him while said wolf was doing the same inside his ass. He straightened and shook his head at the image of it. As he could, he picked up himself and started his day.

Shower, dress, go for the kitchen to make breakfast, and that’s where the world tilted to the side and slid off. There was Derek, in the kitchen, making French toast. He turned, looked at Stiles and there was nothing in his stare that would say a thing about what happened in the night. Then the wolf went back to the toasts and flicking his head signaled a bottle of maple syrup and a cinnamon shaker.

“Take them to the table.”

Stiles took a moment to process what has happening, the lack of the walk of shame he had expected, and then grabbed the items and went with them to the table. He also set the table while Derek finished with the toasts and took them to the table. It was nearly imperceptible the way in which Derek’s fingers set for a moment on Stiles’ neck. The wolf watched his own hand, stared at his own veins and couldn’t believe as nothing happened. His body was taking no pain from the teen. But how could that be? What had happened last night should have taken toll on the teen, especially as he could still feel it in his own body the endless, restless energy still flowing through everything inside him. He took his hand away and sat down in front of Stiles. His heart was normal, breathing normal, a slight scent of apprehension, but other than that everything was just fine.

“I’ll come back late today, so this should count as the meal of the day,” Derek said quietly, not even looking at the teen. He could also tell that the teen wasn’t looking at him either.

“Ok.”

And that was all they said.

School was once again more of the usual. The were population at school all gave him a meaningful look, which was why Stiles purposefully ignored all of them. From the sounds coming from Scott – his alleged best friend – he could tell he reeked of Derek, and possibly sex, but then again, that much he had expected after sleeping naked next to an equally naked Derek, and then having a freaking wet dream. Hn, now that he thought about that, it was the first time he had a wet dream he couldn’t remember. That was odd, because he normally remembered his dreams, especially his wet dreams, though he wouldn’t always talk about them because not all of them were about Lydia. Nope, some were about Allison, though after her death she started giving up her place in his dreams to Caitlin, and there were a couple where he got to seal the deal with Malia too. Some were about Jennifer – before they realized she was a Darach and looked like a bunny hit by a truck – and some about Scott’s mom, and more disturbing, he actually had a wet dream once about Allison’s mom. But this one? Probably he forgot it because Derek woke him up.

Before lunch he cornered Danny pulling him into an empty classroom.

“What do you want now?”

Stiles looked around the hallway before locking it and pulling Danny as far away from the door as he could.

“I have a question to ask you.”

Danny was less than impressed, and simply looked at him as if slightly annoyed and waiting for something stupid to fall from his mouth. Stiles, played with the hem of his shirt and bit his lips before shooting.

“How do you…” he chewed his lips, face going red “make anal sex pleasurable?”

Danny’s eyes went wide with surprise, and then narrowed as if trying to decide whether that was a joke or something just as nasty. Stiles was a nice kid, but Danny could imagine just about anything coming from him, as he had the strangest outbursts in the world.

“Why do you want to know that?”

Stiles licked his lips before chewing on them and looking away.

“Because…” he pulled more on the hem of his shirt, which probably wasn’t a good idea, because it was one of his few good t-shirts left. You wouldn’t believe how many t-shirts, shirts and jackets got destroyed around werewolves, “I’d be doing it?”

Danny studied him for a moment and then his eyes widened.

“With…” he pointed out of the window with his thumb “that… cousin of yours?”

“It’s not my cousin, ok?” Stiles couldn’t believe they were talking about that “His name is Derek Hale.”

“So you lied to me then,” Danny stated.

“That’s not the point now,” Stiles insisted “Can you tell me how to make anal sex pleasurable?”

Danny studied some more and smirked.

“Have you done anything?”

Stiles blinked.

“I… I put my fingers up my ass, but it just felt wrong.”

Danny twisted his mouth into a grimace to avoid laughing. Stiles waited for him to compose himself and tell him what to do, because, really, his ass and mankind depended on that.

“It depends on the mood,” Danny said finally, unable to keep a hint of a grin in his smile.

“Yes, but what makes it good,” Stiles insisted.

Danny shook his head.

“Have you considered that maybe, you just don’t like it?”

The expression of sheer terror in Stiles’ face was something Danny couldn’t explain to himself.

“If he really likes you, he would understand.”

The expression crossing over Stiles’ face became a mystery for Danny. Stiles bit his lips for a moment trying to think of something that would be helpful in the way to make Danny tell him what he needed to know, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“Look Danny,” he tried to reason with him “I really, really need to know if there’s anything that really helps making it good.”

Danny crossed his arms before himself unwilling to yield the information Stiles needed.

“It’s…” Stiles tried again “the first time. I…” he thought better and rephrased “we don’t like to blow it.”

The teen seemed to start considering it. Of course, he couldn’t understand how someone dating such a god would wait to spread their legs or even worry about not enjoying it, but then again, Stiles had always been somewhat tilted towards the odd side.

“You need to prepare yourself,” he said “lube up well, stretch ass… play with it, and get in the mood.”

“Play with it,” Stiles repeated looking at Danny as if trying to confirm that one bit.

“Yes,” Danny said walking towards the door to leave “finger it, have it licked, put a dildo in it, have it touched, rubbed, teased… whatever works for you, Stilinski.” Then he smirked looking up and down Stiles’ frame “but with a boyfriend that hot I would say all you need is a word from him and you’ll be ready and begging. Even if you are straight.”

Stiles smiled to thank him, but couldn’t help thinking that if Danny knew Derek better he would know it didn’t matter how smoking hot his looks were, it wasn’t just as easy to relax around him, get comfy or simply pull his pants down, turn and ask him if he would be as kind as to lick his ass.

On his way back to the tiny house, Stiles picked up a tube of lube and a small vibrating ball attached to what seemed like a wristband. He had considered getting a dildo, but looking at the huge, colored and quite explicit shaped fake penises only made him more nervous. How would he fit that in there when he was currently struggling to get a finger inside his body? The funny look the seller gave him didn’t help either, but he remembered himself that he was doing this for the greater good.

Back at the tiny house he purposefully delayed his next session of experimenting in favor of homework, though the nagging was there constantly, at the back of his mind. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he stood up and took his supplies to the bathroom. Tensing his jaws, he took off his clothes and stepped into the shower letting the warm water fell on him. His heart wouldn’t get still, his hands would shake a little and he didn’t feel like touching himself, but he tightened his jaws and berated himself mentally. This time he would try to get into the mood. He put the lube at hands reach and the small ball too. He then pressed himself against the tiles, forehead resting on them and he started touching himself slowly. His mind started conjuring images of Lydia behind him, touching him, kissing his shoulders while he worked his slowly hardening meat. When it started to feel good, he purposefully switched Lydia in his mind for Jackson. His erection nearly flagged, but he gritted his teeth and concentrated. Water running down Jackson’s face and body, his smile being gentle – stretch of imagination, of course, but nothing Stiles hadn’t worked with in the past – and his voice low and seductive. He kept it, shifting from time to time to other fantasies – Scott’s mom, Lydia’s mom, Kate Argent – but keeping up with Jackson for as long as he could. It wasn’t the best work – he had to admit it – but it was pretty much working. When he felt that his hard on was pretty much there to stay until coming, he took the ball and slowly reached behind himself, pushing his hips back and gently rolling it over his ass. He gave a good tug to his penis to keep it on track, and forced his fantasies on the matter, picturing a Jackson so seductive, so wanton that it was no longer erotic, but nearly sci-fi. He kept it on, not giving up, and twisted the little ball, making it vibrate against his ass, which only made him jump up and nearly make him throw the damned thing far from himself.

“Come on, Stiles,” he berated himself “keep it on.”

He pressed his face into the tiles harder, squishing his perky nose, and pumped his dick furiously, as it was clearly losing interest in the whole thing. He pushed his hips back further, ass cheeks parting and exposing his puckered hole. He tried again, rolling the vibrating ball over it, pushing it gently against it until he got used to the idea of it. He imagined Jackson kissing his shoulders, panting against his ear, rubbing against his ass, tugging his cock. He tried hard to convince himself that he wanted this, that this was good and forced himself to go on, keep up the image of an impossible Jackson, flashing images of Caitlin before himself, and really trying to make it work.

When he deemed the time right, he lowered himself to his knees, and turning off the shower, reached for the lube and started working himself with lube dripping fingers. As if no foreplay would have happened, his body refused to open up and let him in.

“Not again,” he smacked his forehead against the tiles “I’ll do this.”

His dick had lost interest, but he would not give up. He pumped himself furiously though he could feel that nothing would come out of it except chafing. Then he gritted his teeth and pushed his finger inside his body so violently it made him yelp. He breathed hard, smacked his head again and frowned.

“I’ll enjoy this,” he said to himself as he forced his body to endure his finger slowly pumping into his ass. It wasn’t any better than the first time, but if possible it was even worse as his penis laid in his hand like a dead bird “I’ll enjoy this,” he willed himself and pumped both his dick and his ass again and again, more and more furiously until it was plain as daylight that no matter how much he willed himself and forced himself to it, this wasn’t going to happen.

He collapsed in the shower and sniffed a couple of times, then hastily wiping away a tear. He raised on his knees and eyed the tiles before him furiously. His hand reached for the lube and coated his shaky fingers again. He reached behind himself again and slowly inserted his finger in.

“Okay,” he said to himself while slowly pumping his finger and trying to overcome the uncomfortable feeling, “okay, this is what I’ll do,” he reasoned “I won’t enjoy it, but I’ll make it endurable. Then I’ll think of something to distract myself and enjoy… something.”

He nodded to himself, and pressing his chest to the wall as if it could protect him, he concentrated slowly only on moving his fingers in and out of his body, gently, trying hard to relax and will the discomfort away. He let his erection flag down and soften, hanging shy between his thighs. Like trying to overcome a difficult exercise in P.E., he kept on task, pumping over and over his ass, chewing his lips in shame as all he felt was the most disturbing sensation of needing to go to the bathroom. Was that it? The great feeling that laid hidden in the secretive art of anal sex? The joy of shitting without actually doing it? If so, anal sex was overrated.

He forced his body to take the treatment, take up to two fingers in, which proved to be not only uncomfortable but actually painful as well, for what may have seemed like a whole day for him. By the time he decided to finish the day’s "training", he was sure he would never, ever again masturbate for as long as he lived, and would possibly swear off sex after the ritual. Sadly, Derek would be the only person with whom he would ever have sex.  
****

Derek had woken up before Stiles, as usual, but this time felt restless, though not entirely in a bad way. Something was nested in his chest irradiating his body with an energy so endless, so strong and so pure he was sure he could do and achieve anything in the world. Submerged in his thoughts, he watched intently his hands, his body, his own eyes and every single inch and microscopic part of himself, trying to understand the phenomenon taking over his whole being. He pushed his own limits and found himself being easily able to surpass them. Out of the blue he was stronger, faster, and didn’t seem to get tired. Over and over he stared back at his hands, as if in his palms he could find the answer to this strange thing going on.

By night time, with Beacon Hills spread at his feet, he looked one more time at his palms and realization downed on him. His eyes widened nearly in horror as he now realized the magnitude of his task and feeling absolutely incapable of doing it. Would he be able to get Stiles to that state? When nearly four days have passed and he did little more than cook, eat and complete tasks with the teen? Deaton was right, it was going to fail because of him, and now that he started to grasp the actual power the teen could unleash, he felt all the more guilty.

By the time he parked at the tiny house behind Stiles battered jeep, it was late for dinner, though he hoped there was still time to do that day’s task, which was always delivered to Stiles’ phone. The little house was nearly in the darkness, with only a softly flickering light peeking from the living room window. He entered the house quietly, sensing that something was slightly off. His eyes roamed the tiny house falling then on the teen curled on the couch staring at the TV watching rented movies.

„Hi,” he said frowning a little at the fact that it wasn’t Stiles’ unstoppable mouth greeting him with more words than he wished to hear.

Stiles looked up at him, his eyebrows going up as they used to in that fresh, light way, half a smile illuminating his features. However soon a ripple of nervousness lashed through him breaking a little twitch on the corner of his mouth.

„Hi!” he replied quickly returning his attention to the TV.

„Everything alright?”

„Yes,” Stiles hurried to reply without looking at Derek „everything’s good.”

Derek closed the door behind himself and eyed the teen for a moment more trying to read what could be going on there. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but maybe he was. As he was going to step closer to the teen to check, the teen spoke again.

„If you haven’t eaten, there’s still soup from yesterday in the fridge.”

Derek redirected his steps to the kitchen.

„Haven’t you eaten?”

„Not hungry!”

Derek looked at the teen in the couch. Something was definitively disturbing him, and that was filling him with unease. He took the pot out of the fridge and smelled the contents before putting it on the stove to heat up.

„Would you like noodles with your soup?”

That got a reaction from the teen. Satisfied, Derek watched as the messy head seemed to straighten and move – even if slightly – with the usual purpose with which the teen seemed to be always wired up with. Then the head seemed to settle again, but the earlier perceived gloom diminished.

„Only if you are having noodles too.”

Derek smirked and prepared the dinner. Once the soup and the noodles were done, he served two bowls and took them to the couch pressing one into Stiles’ hand while he took seat next to the teen. It seemed Stiles had rented a bunch of horror classics from the 80’s and early 90’s. They ate in relative silence, save from the occasional gasp or sudden move the movie provoked in the teen. Taking advantage of Stiles being distracted by the children of the corn, Derek quietly reached his hand out and placed the tips of his fingers on the nape of the teen expecting to be able to absorb some of his pain, but there was nothing. He listened to his heart rate, which seemed to be normal for someone watching horror movies, so was his breathing.

He watched and burned inside to ask Stiles if there was something, but the words couldn’t leave his mouth. They tangled on his tongue lost on their way out. Not that he had ever been chatty, but there was something about Stiles that usually got his words in a knot. His eyes left the teen and focused somewhere on the screen where terrifying children popped from the cornfields. His hands flexed by their own, expressing his frustration as now that he had realized what his task was, the teen seemed to be falling further away from him. Beside him sat an open – if compulsively lying – kid and right now they couldn’t be more distanced from each other. The whole universe extended between them in the couch.

At one moment he felt the eyes of the teen on him. He could sense the old suspicion of Stiles in each lick of his gaze across his features, as if trying to decipher the behavior of the wolf. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t do anything to acknowledge the examination to which he was being submitted, but instead let him see him and analyze him as much as he wanted. Stiles also seemed puzzled by his behavior, him bringing him dinner to the couch and silently sitting there with him watching the movies he had picked.

„Do we have a task for tonight?” Derek asked after a while, as the movie was ending.

Stiles’ jaws tensed and his arms came around his chest wrapping him tightly.

„Yeah, well,” he winced, „maybe we could do that thing you said yesterday,” he said without looking at him, „you know, I won’t tell if you don’t tell...”

Derek couldn’t keep his eyes from widening in horrified astonishment. What could be the task if Stiles, who was ok with them sleeping naked would rather skip it?

„What’s the task?”

Tension mounted in the body of the teen, and the scent of embarrassment peeled a couple of ribbons from his skin. He pushed his phone towards the wolf in a way that made sure they wouldn’t touch, which made Derek frown and scan the teen’s face looking for signs that would tell him about his new need to avoid him as much as he could. He took the phone and checked the message from Deaton.

‘Explore each other’s naked body.’

Derek’s eyes widened more if that was possible, and then simply pushed the phone back to Stiles the same way the teen did it before.

„So what do we watch next?”

There was relief and a soft smile coming from Stiles. There was a small discussion about whether continuing with the Texas Chain Massacre or Nightmare on Elm Street, but they quickly settled on the couch watching horror movie after horror movie and realizing silently that in spite of Stiles’ general like for gore, he was still quite jumpy with horror movies, as the jumping ups, gasps and „Oh my God”-s stringed on, reaching to the point where he was unconsciously reaching for Derek’s arm and tightening his fingers around his wrist as if wanting to be protected or ready to escape and not willing to let the wolf behind.

Stiles also realized that for all the wise, knowledgeable „werewolf” vibe Derek gave out, there were horror movies that could still make him jump, wide eyed and positively scared. His arm had automatically extended before the teen, protecting him, pushing him back, his shoulder and chest pushing forward before him, while his eyes, clear as glass, widened in horror at the scene. He would relax after, but his arm lingered before Stiles a little more, his hand carelessly curling on the side, resting on the teen’s thigh. Perhaps the arm would have moved away if Stiles wouldn’t have found it convenient to grab into his elbow, just for general protection against the movie, and the wolf didn’t seem to object offering that sort of protection.

There was something about that arm, staying there on his thigh, strong and protecting him that gave comfort to Stiles. The movies were still scary – if they would have lost that he would have been deeply disappointed – but he finally started to relax, to let go of that terrible feeling of being left all alone with a situation far larger than what he could tackle. His fingers curled around the arm, his palm slowly flattened against it and then his head also bobbed towards the shoulder until it seemed not to be able to detach from it and his lids, heavy like packed with stones, found it harder and harder to stay open until they closed for good. He couldn’t remember the moment when he also stopped listening to the movie, while he convinced he would only rest his eyes a little.

Derek finished the movie noticing only then that the teen was wrapped around his arm and softly breathing against his shoulder. His heartbeats were even and his breathing was peaceful. He was soundly asleep.

„Stiles,” he tried to wake him by slowly rolling his shoulder, but the teen didn’t even wince at that. 

„Stiles, wake up.”

He considered shaking him up, but he looked so peaceful, so sweet he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Derek carefully freed his arm from the teen and left him on the couch to sleep some while he took care of the dishes. His plan was to wake him up after, but it seemed the teen had other plans, which involved sleeping in his clothes on the couch.

„Stiles, wake up,” Derek tried to shake him up „time to go to bed.”

A soft groan and his body hunching away into a tighter ball protecting his sleep was all Derek got. Finally he gave up and decided to carry the teen to bed. He promised to himself that next time – if such a thing ever happened again – he would let him freeze on the couch, but as he gathered him in his arms, and Stiles’ head rolled to his shoulder, he knew that there was no power on Earth that would keep him time and again from picking him up and tucking him in bed.

Derek maneuvered them both to the small bedroom, making sure that Stiles’ long legs wouldn’t bump against the doorframe or the furniture. He then took care of his clothes, undressing him and placing his discarded clothes on a pile on the nightstand. Shoes, socks, shirt, t-shirt, undershirt... as his hand came in touch with the skin of the teen he could no longer remain detached from him. With something akin to curiosity, his fingers slid on the pale skin peppered with many moles, hairy forearms that didn’t speak of the thin, hairless chest, the narrow hips or the long, skinny legs. His hands wrapped around the ankles, fingers tracing the instep, the heel, the toes. A boy in growth, a teen still, a child. Large enough not to be a kid anymore, but all that body still encased a boy. A clever, brave boy that was throwing himself literally to the wolves to be consumed. Derek unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, sliding them off his long legs. Stiles now looked like something halfway between an angel and a young man. Laying on his back, chest raising and falling in soft cadence, his body became a field Derek’s eyes couldn’t avoid. Though he had seen him naked, it was as if he were really seeing him naked for the first time. Peaceful, vulnerable, the same face he had found to annoying in the past was part of a body that had proven resilient and strong – for a human – in the past and yet stretched before him, fragile like thin glass.

He carefully folded Stiles’ pants before going for his underwear. Snug cotton boxers hugged his hips like a second skin in dark, ashy-blue. With the pulse in his veins, his head started reminding Derek of his task. This was the body he would have to drive to that one kind of sexual ecstasy he had no idea how to reach. He pulled down his underwear slowly, his eyes following the taut belly, the thin hips and deep loin lines, the dusted happy trail that led him to his pubes and a soft, uninterested penis leaning slightly to the right. The backs of his fingers reached out and slid down the curve of the hips skidding them over the head of the dormant cock. His jaws tensed, his nose flared and his fingers tightened in a fist. The velvety feeling of the foreskin against his skin itched and he wished nothing more than scratch it off. It felt wrong and hopeless. Even if he tried, he couldn’t see Stiles as someone that could interest him sexually, and if he couldn’t force himself to do so, how could he tap into that source of white power and let it loose? What hope did he really have? Could he trick Stiles into falling into it if he faked it well? And if he did, wouldn’t he be willingly pushing the teen down the very cliff from which he had tried to warn him off?

He lifted him up again to put him under the covers, tucking them gently around him. As if still in the couch, Stiles’ hand sneaked out capturing Derek’s hand and pulling it under the covers, nesting it against his neck, pressed between his chin and his chest. His whole body curled around the hand of the wolf as if by wrapping around it he would be safe. Derek let him keep his hand for a moment while the other slowly caressed his unruly bangs. The teen relaxed, falling deeper into the realm of dreams, loosening his hold on the hand and the world of the living. The silky touch of his hair mesmerized the wolf, who petted him gently, searching his face, attentive to the first sign of a nightmare while again rolling in his head any chance he would have to see Stiles as a sexual partner, and find the way to unleash the power in him. His eyes took in everything again, and labeled again every inch of his face. The perky nose, the curve of his cheeks, the arch of his eyebrows, the slope of his long eyelashes, the moist softness of his mouth.

Derek leaned forward for that mouth. The scent was there waiting to be captured. The scent of chicken soup, menthos and everything from his own nails to his shirt and pencils, all of them spoke volumes of Stiles’ restless oral fixation. The hand on his hair slid down to his jaw, holding it, tilting gently the chin, angling the mouth for a kiss. Derek went closer, the heat from Stiles’ mouth tickling his lips, brushing yet not crushing them under the touch of his own lips. The wolf couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was all wrong. Stiles was asleep and he was pretty much assaulting him, trying to kiss him without his consent, but even worse was being there, his lips grazing against those of someone with whom he would have to have sex by the end of the week and realize that he didn’t feel the needed spark. Instead, to his horror, he did find that his chest wasn’t dead towards the teen: he cared and cared deeply. How could he ever do such a thing to him? His head bowed resting his sinus on the temple of the teen.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered “you shouldn’t.”

He remained there for a moment and then lifted his head gently pecking the soft mouth of the teen and pulling his hand away. Sorrow and hopelessness wrapped around his head as he turned off the light of the room and undressed, slipping then into the bed and keeping himself precariously perched on the edge of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another So-Called Fun Fact: After starting to write this fic - you know, to flex my Sterek muscle in order to write the other one that's so Peter-centric, you wouldn't believe it - I started to get impatient because I wanted to see and write some "action", but the story and the plot wasn't letting me. Damned ritual! So what did I do? I started a third fic. Yes, a THIRD fic. That one I don't know if I'll ever finish, because I can't actually "plot" it properly into a story, but it was (yes, I'm giving you this plotbunny) about things getting really bad at the Hale pack, with everybody quarreling all the time, so one day, after a particularly nasty fight, Stiles finds Derek on the couch very, very sad. Like paralyzed by sadness. He tries to make him react, but Derek just won't, so in a last effort, he drops to his knees and give him a blow job. That kinda seems to work. Then, Stiles getting aroused for what he did, starts finding ways to get alone with Derek and blow him. Things escalate slowly, and... yeah, that's all I've got. What will be the end? I've no idea. Shall I work kinks into it? Why the hell not? Not sure about publishing it, because, I've no idea how to finish it. Would it become simply a PWP fic, a sequence of chapters for each time they get the urge to get it on... and do it? Well, at least I did wrote some action and tried out also those skills. Hope you will like what I can do in "that" area. :-)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	6. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving a task uncompleted (somewhat), Derek decides to take a few things in his hands and manage. Stiles gets more appreciative and Derek a tad nicer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, thank you to my two amazing beta-readers, @FuckingdarkStiles and @Shotahunter, whom I've been slave-driving like it wasn't done even in Ancient Egypt. Thank you gals, you are really, really the best. Mistakes left... yeah, probably mine, but Microsoft should take the blame as well as it has been sticking together words, and no matter how many times I separate them, they stick together again.
> 
> I'm already working on the last chapter, which after chapter 8 is a bit difficult to handle. When you get there (and that would be no sooner than Saturday) you'll see what I mean. Anyway, the last chapter is coming around quite ok, I'm pretty pleased with it, and I hope you'll be as well, as I hope my beta readers would also like it. ^_^
> 
> So this is six down, three to go, and guess what? When the fanfic is over, you'll have the beginning of season 4! Isn't that great? ^_^ Well, off you go, Read!

His phone beeped next to his head reminding him of waking up. Stiles stretched in the bed opening one eye and looking around before slowly peeling the other one open. As usual, he was alone in bed, and his hand had reached out towards the other side of it and his fingers curled on the crumpled sheets Derek had left in his wake. His clothes were all piled up on the nightstand, not scattered around the floor, making a clear statement that it hadn’t been him the one undressing his body and taking it to bed. He rubbed his face and slowly got up, his morning wood bouncing way too happily before him like a puppy greeting him first thing in the morning. Stiles looked at it resigned. 

“I thought we agreed yesterday that our self-touching days were over.”

His hard dick wasn’t flagging down, pointing away from his body, stiff and thick with expectation.

“Okay then, shall we try again some anal play?” Stiles tried to scare his hard on away, but it continued there. “Unbelievable.” The teen sighed.

It was Friday and that normally made him happy, except that… it was Friday. That meant that Sunday was only two days away. Never in his life had he waited for a Monday so desperately. He hit the bathroom, dealt with the matters at hand and got ready for school. The scent of breakfast and the sound of frying beckoned him to the kitchen, where Derek was again so effortlessly making himself busy with bacon and eggs. Without saying a word he turned to the teen and handled him two plates. Stiles took them and brought them to the table while Derek served them both coffee.

“Thank you,” Stiles said as they were both seated.

Derek looked at him with a gaze hanging somewhere between annoyance and curiosity.

“You don’t need to thank everything.”

“But I want to,” Stiles replied digging into the food.

Derek watched him as he forked bacon and fried eggs together and then stuffed them into his mouth with the ends of the bacon sticking out of his shiny mouth, almost as if he were trying to swallow Cuthulhu. He didn’t ask why, he only watched him and tried to read his answers off his skin. They ate in relative silence – relative to the noise Stiles made with the cutlery – for a couple of minutes.

“Do you have practice today?”

Stiles looked up to the wolf, his big brown eyes wide and reminding him of a deer caught in the headlights. He swallowed the big lump of food in his mouth washing it down with some coffee before he could answer.

“No,” he said “do we have plans?”

Derek gave him again that stare that fell somewhere between ‘isn’t that obvious?’ and ‘why can’t you just keep your pie hole shut and obey in silence?’. Stiles twisted his mouth and nodded. They finished their breakfast in silence. As Stiles was standing up to wash down the last of his coffee and getting ready to burst out of the door, Derek stood up and walked past him pushing him down to sit while taking his plate from the table.

“I’ll drive you to school.”

Stiles watched him over the rim of his mug trying to figure him out for a moment.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished his coffee, taking the mug to the sink.

Derek looked at him again this time with slightly more annoyance in his glare.

“It’s the second time you thank me for something today, and it’s not even eight o’clock.”

“Yeah,” Stiles smirked, “and the first time was a big thank you for breakfast, for taking me to bed last night, watching movies with me, being oddly civil and not making me talk when I didn’t want to talk.”

Derek followed him with his eyes as the smirking kid went for his backpack and then stood in the middle of the living room waiting for him. He took his keys and jacket and went towards the door.

“I’m civil, you see,” Stiles leaned towards him as the wolf passed next to him, “and my folks taught me to be polite.”

That itself was so rich coming from Stiles, that Derek couldn’t avoid the sarcastic smile from spreading across his lips.

“Well, you are welcome,” he said, and then made a show out of opening the door and holding it for Stiles, “after you.”

He would have let it at that, but the smirk plastered on Stiles’ face, the way in which he watched him to see how far he would take the show pushed him to open the door of the Camaro for him as well. It irked him a little, but at the same time it set a tiny spark of happiness in his chest, like having a friend, an actual friend for the first time in ages. Someone with whom he could goof around, even if that someone was someone else’s best friend.

“You keep it like that and I may let you get to second base,” Stiles joked purposefully turning to look outside of the window once Derek was also in the car.

“You’ll let me connect a homerun,” Derek smirked throwing the car in reverse and driving Stiles to school.

Stiles turned to look at him as the wolf kept his eyes trained on the road ignoring him. He felt tempted to remark on his newly found humor, but refrained from it, afraid that it could mess up with something that so far was going quite well. Instead, in order to control his urges to speak, he brought his index finger to his mouth and nibbled on the nail. Danny was right, Derek was one fucking hot piece of man – werewolf, really – and right now he could see him as someone… as fantasy material? His eyes roamed his frame. He was impressive, he knew that always, but that wasn’t the thing with him. Derek wasn’t the friendly type, wasn’t the laughing type, and wasn’t really someone who would watch movies with you. This, next to him, wasn’t the real Derek, this was Derek on a task, but underneath the feigned chivalry and the civil behavior, there was still the wolf that wouldn’t think twice about hitting him or threaten him to get what he believed he needed. His eyes turned back to the road, ahead, his teeth chewing furiously on his finger, pulling a tiny piece of skin and making his flesh tender. This was Derek in a mission, working hard towards a goal that Stiles would blew up because he couldn’t take one up his ass for the team the way it needed to be taken.

Before his hand started to tremble and the tension mounted, a hand took his and pulled his finger away from his mouth. Derek wasn’t even looking at him as he lowered Stiles’ hand to the teen’s thigh, thumb gently rubbing over the hurt flesh before letting it go. Not a word was spoken as that same hand fluently rested over the shift stick and stayed there.

When Derek pulled before the school, Stiles eyed the people outside, and how more than one pointedly turned towards the black Camaro and signaled to their friends. His was definitively not going to be a subtle entry. Even less as Ethan stood there, arms crossed over his chests and smirking. Kira had turned to watch, recognizing the car, but didn’t think much of it while Malia moved back towards the shadows, as if somehow fearing the wolf. He heard Derek huff a little and guessed he was about to say something.

“Am I under orders of not getting detention again?”

Derek looked outside of the window. He looked ridiculously good with his jacket and pilot sunglasses.

“Do you need to be under order to avoid getting detention?”

Well, so much for humor and civil behavior. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him as his mouth dropped in disbelieve.

“It’s not like it depends on me!” Stiles argued, to which Derek stared at him over the rim of his glasses. “It’s true!” Stiles insisted “Now that I smell like you all the time all werewolves in the vicinity get out of their way to tease me. And in spite of what you might think, it’s not fun to be teased about having sex when you are actually the only one not getting any!”

And right then Stiles’ brain connected with his mouth and he realized he had said too many stupid things. His mouth clamped up and he wished he could just eat off his mouth and have it disappear so he would never, ever say another word in his life. Derek kept looking at him so clinically, so bored, so annoyed by his teen problems Stiles was sure this would end up with some sort of violence ranging from being kicked out of the car (literally kicked) to his head getting banged against the dashboard or any available hard surface.

“Come here,” the wolf said pulling the teen towards himself by the nape of the neck. 

The move took Stiles by surprise, who was quickly stretching his arms to the dashboard and the back of Derek’s seat in an attempt to stop the pull and avoid the hit. However Derek brought his face to his mouth and turning it between his hands licked a broad strip behind the teen’s ears. At the touch of the wet tongue against the soft spot behind his ears, the nose touching his hair, the teen froze in place.

“What was that for?” Stiles straightened reaching behind his ears.

“Don’t wipe it off,” Derek warned him.

Stiles frowned thinking about walking around with Derek’s spit behind his ears.

“What does it do?”

“It will keep the werewolves off your back.”

Stiles was touching around the licked area with curiosity.

“How?”

“Marks you as mine.”

Stiles looked at the wolf in horror.

“And you had to lick me for that??”

“Do you prefer a t-shirt that says ‘Property of Derek Hale’?”

Stiles blinked.

“In which colors do you have it?”

Derek leaned forward and opened Stiles’ door.

“Out!”

“But…” Stiles stumbled clumsily getting out and pulling his backpack.

“And no detention!”

Whatever Derek’s spit had, it actually seemed to be working. The smirk on Ethan’s face visibly faded as he came closer, eyes widening and then turning and walking away. Isaac took a step back and hid behind Scott, while his best friend looked at him astonished.

“What?”

Scott tried to find the right words, none of which came from his College preparation program.

“You smell like Derek.”

“Like Derek being dangerous,” Isaac pointed out.

Stiles searched his face. There should be something about the smell the wolf put on him, that had such a strong effect on wolves, including his best friend. His hand reached behind his ears, where the spit had dried already, and then he brought the fingers to his nose but couldn’t smell anything on them.

“It’s strong,” Scott smiled, and Stiles could see he would have put his arms around his shoulders, but something was stopping him.

“And are you going to be like that all the time?” Stiles replied gesturing at his best friend’s rigid posture “because I can wash this thing off.”

Scott smiled and slowly put his hands around his best friend, only to take them off quickly.

“Sorry,” he apologized “it’s like suddenly realizing that a girl you were friends with has this massive, scary brother that would crush you if you as much as look at her.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. He searched Isaac’s eyes, who was nodding as well.

“You are now the new Cora.”

Though it was strange that Scott would put so much distance between them, no matter how Stiles tried to cut it back (at one point he had to surprise his friend and jump on his back, holding to him in order to get close, which Scott didn’t refuse, though quickly parted – it was irritating Stiles), it was certainly nice to be left in peace – though Danny was eying him all the more, probably convinced without any trace of doubt that he and Derek were dating.Yeah, dating. That brought the whole thing up again in his brain, the sex, the odd feeling he had and Deaton’s words, how he shouldn’t be just lying there but taking part of the whole thing… actively.

Stiles chewed on his lip and wished this whole thing were over. His fingers reached out quite often to behind his ears, where he would rub and scratch at the patches where from time to time he could still feel Derek’s tongue marking him.

When school was over he found Derek there, in the parking lot, leaning against his Camaro and waiting for him. Though people at school had seen him already, a small group still gathered to watch him in awe. In a way it was quite uncomfortable for Stiles to raise attention that way, as now, as he passed them people also stared at him and whispered. Knowing Derek, he was probably able to hear what people were saying, things Stiles didn’t need super hearing to guess: how come someone like Stiles – lanky, funny, odd, pale, overactive, a heap of flaws – landed someone like Derek – a god reincarnated in leather clad perfection with long legs, strong arms and an ass to die for. Out of impulse, he hunched his shoulders and rubbed behind his ear.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Stiles rushed to the wolf still hunching and wishing to be invisible “can we go now?”

Derek looked up at the multitude he had noticed without even deigning them for an open look. The discomfort in Stiles was evident.

“It didn’t work?” he said pushing himself from the car.

He noticed as Stiles touched again the spot behind his ear, the scent coming stronger as he rubbed it.

“It worked alright with werewolves, but there’s no amount of you licking me that can keep the humans from gathering and murmuring.”

He got into Derek’s Camaro and waited for the wolf to get in and drive away. Derek stared for a moment at the students gathered there and hated them. There wasn’t a thing he could do, flashing his teeth would do nothing for the lot to dispel and leave them be. But it was Friday, and by Monday everything would be normal, though he wondered if they would stare after Stiles and wonder why wasn’t Derek picking him up. Would they mock him if they thought he had been rejected? And why was that bothering him so much?

They drove for a while in silence, which sort of astonished Derek since the teen didn’t even ask where was he taking him.

“What does it do?” Stiles asked suddenly.

Derek looked at him questioningly and lifted his eyebrows to ask him to elaborate. Stiles touched the spot behind his ears.

“Scott couldn’t even come close to me,” he looked forward “I have never noticed how much we are into each other’s personal space.”

“Scott said something?”

“Scott and Isaac said that I’m basically the new Cora.”

Derek smiled.

“Mates, family do it,” he explained while he drove the car into the reserve and parked.

Derek got out of the car and Stiles quickly followed, noticing the training bag he was carrying wondering for the first time what had the wolf planned. Not like that stopped him, which suddenly set all sorts of alarms in his head as a voice reminded him how Derek was featured in every single suspect list he had ever compiled since Scott became a werewolf. Really, every list, including the list of suspects he mentally compiled when looking for his misplaced homework. And Peter wasn’t even on that one!

“We communicate in many ways, scent being one of them.”

“I’ve read about scenting, yes,” Stiles said following the wolf “I hope you don’t mean to tell me you have peed all around your house, or that you pee on your stuff.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Licking is an instinctive gesture among kin. It’s a way to give each other comfort, let each other know we are always together, but also a way to let others know that neither of us are alone.”

“So you lick Cora?” Stiles teased “Does Peter lick you?”

“My mother used to lick Laura, Cora and I behind our ears.”

That made Stiles feel uncomfortable.

“Sorry.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“If I thank you for what you did, will you go bitching again because of that?”

The wolf didn’t say a world, but made sure to let the teen know that he would rather not be thanked. They walked quietly some more until Stiles had again talking urges and started speaking about whatever subject that came to his mind.

“So, where are we going?” Stiles asked at some point as they broke past a line of trees stopping before a moonlit pond.

“Here,” the wolf said turning to him with something like an all knowing smile.

He dropped the bag he had been carrying and took off his jacket, leaving it on a heap over the bag. Stiles looked at him and then his eyes widened as the wolf grabbed the hem of his Henley and took it off.

“And what are we doing here?”

There was an oddly smug smile on the face of the wolf that seemed to promise nothing good for the teen.

“Yesterday’s task,” Derek answered, getting his boots off and then going for his belt. His head nodded towards the pond “skinny dipping.”

Stiles frowned thinking for a moment.

“It was about exploring each other’s naked body.”

Derek stopped and looked at him. No smile on his face, just that expression that bordered boredom, as if waiting for the teen to catch up and stop pestering him.

“Any other way you would feel comfortable about completing this task, or do you want to ditch it completely?”

The wolf stood before him, pants open, half turned in a way that accentuated his narrow waist, his broad shoulders and an ass to kill for. Stiles looked at him and searched his own mind. This was the body that would be pounding into his in two days’ time. In two days this will be on top of him and he would have to spread his legs for it and move against him in a ritual. Though they now got naked to sleep – together – the thought of skinny dipping still wasn’t comfortable. His eyes narrowed and his jaw moved a couple of times as his fingers rubbed the spot behind his ear or scratched a particular spot on his jaw, but then no words would come to rescue him from his predicament. He sighed and started taking off his clothes.

“Isn’t it a little cold for skinny dipping?”

Derek only smirked. He waited until Stiles shed all his clothes on the same pile he had shed his.

“Race you?”

Stiles smirked and sprinted off before even replying. Derek rushed after him, catching up with him rather quickly. Stiles didn’t give up and prepare to keep running as his feet hit the cold water, but the wolf picked him up by the waist like a punching bag and carried him into the pond and throwing him into the water with a big splash quite unceremoniously.

Stiles screamed, splashed, swallowed some water and got to his feet as fast as he could, blinded by the water and shocked by the cold. He wiped the water from his face, pushing his hair back – should reconsider his buzz cut – and charged against the wolf. Derek not only ditched him easily, but grabbed him quickly and sunk him into the water again.

“No wolf powers!”

“I don’t know what are you talking about,” Derek smirked.

Stiles had to put all his cunning to good use, and then resource to wrap his legs around the wolf to be able to finally sink him. They wrestled in the water for some time before deciding to swim deeper into the pond, until their toes wouldn’t touch the bottom of it.

“I haven’t done this for a while,” Stiles commented floating on his back and staring at the sky.

Derek looked at him with curiosity, which was his way to allow him to go on.

“Scott,” Stiles elaborated “used to have quite bad case of asthma, so skinny dipping in the cold was out of the question. Then he became a werewolf and otherwise occupied.”

“Hn,” Derek merely acknowledged him while moving around lazily.

“You come here often?”

Derek turned to look at Stiles with half an amused smirk.

“That’s a pick up line.”

Stiles looked at him and blushed laughing then a little in embarrassment.

“Sorry, not meant to,” he tried to apologize “just trying to make a conversation while swimming naked.”

Derek smirked some more.

“Better naked than paralyzed by a Kanima.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed “I don’t have to keep your head above the water while naked.”

“Nah,” Derek swam a little closer “only your own head.”

He was suddenly over the teen pushing him down under the water again from the top of his head. His fingers curled around the short hair to keep him from escaping, holding him down, while the teen quickly wrapped his legs around his waist, trying to turn them or pull him down while fighting to pry his fingers open. His heart rate was fast, but not dangerous, and he could sense that Stiles was amused by the game, going through a rush of adrenaline, but experiencing no fear, not even a hint of mistrust towards the wolf. He eased up as well, consumed in the water fight and ignoring their state of nakedness, he had no problems wrapping his naked body around that of the wolf, his calves pressing hard into the butt and the back of the thighs of the wolf, his own ass pretty close to the crotch of the wolf. Derek had his strength on his side, and was able to easily maneuver and subdue the teen, but Stiles was restless and unafraid of wiggle every which way to disentanglehimself.

He would squirm and twist until Derek lost his hold, purposefully or not grazing a ticklish spot and making the wolf release him. He wouldn’t escape, though, but as he regained his freedom he would tackle Derek, either by trying to wrap his thighs around his neck and pull him under himself, or jumping over his back and nearly climbing his shoulders to push him under the water.They wrestled back and forth, then stopped and swam or simply floated gazing at the landscape only to go again wrestling. Perhaps they would have done that all night long if at one point, during wrestling Stiles’ hand wouldn’t have slipped in his attempt to hold onto Derek’s back – in a quite twisted position, really – and ended right on his cock. As if he would have touched fire, he immediately let go, hands over his head and pushing himself away from the wolf.

Derek turned to look at him, seeing in the face of the teen reflected the horror or having done something terrible. Wide eyes, pale face, hands still over his head as if trying to convince him of his innocence.

“Probably it’s getting cold for you,” he said pointing with his head towards the shore where their clothes piled “Would you like to get out now?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “yeah, let’s get out.”

They swam out and then walked the last part to the shore, dripping water profusely while their feet got stuck in the muddy bank of it. Derek walked to the bag he brought and pulled from it a towel, which he threw at Stiles before pulling another and quickly drying himself with it. He then brought it to his hips to wrap it around them, but stopped. He looked at the teen, quite obliviously drying his head while his white ass was turned at him. He should try and do this, feel comfortable naked around the teen, and try and be it some more.

He purposefully walked past the teen before throwing the towel to the ground and sitting on it looking at the pond. He did that thing again, where he paid close attention to every reaction of the teen while looking completely detached. For a moment he wondered if it was his wolf side playing that trick. Stiles had mentioned his “wolf powers”, which now got him wondering about them and what it could be like to be a wolf by the bite and not by birth, knowing so clearly the difference between both sides. He couldn’t do the difference as much as he couldn’t breathe purposefully only with one of his lungs, or deliberately think only with one of his brain hemispheres.

He noticed Stiles looking at him, slowing in his movements, and then stop as if to ponder something. The boy’s gaze on his shoulders felt burning and heavy, like a branding iron. The tad of concern that peeled from his scent was what worried the wolf a little. He heard him walk away from him, to the clothes’ pile, revolve it and then walk towards him, steps steady, posture relaxed, until he stood next to him, bent to arrange a space on the rumpled towel and then plopped down next to him.

“So…” Stiles said slowly “that would cover the ‘exploring each other’s naked body’ task?”

Derek tilted his head looking at the pond and pondering his answer.

“It could be called so.”

Stiles twisted his mouth.

“Well, there was nakedness,” he conceded “and we certainly explored each other’s body in an attempt to keep each other under the water – for which I’m sure you cheated, by the way.”

Derek smiled but said nothing. Stiles and his “wolf power” theory was actually too funny to shut him up.

“Don’t you feel we are cheating?”

The former Alpha searched his eyes. Right then Stiles’ phone beeped saving him from wording an answer he didn’t have for the question of the teen.

“Well,” he said sounding somewhat defeated “I think Deaton wanted to make sure we didn’t cheat.”

This made Derek straighten his spine and reach for the phone Stiles was offering him. There, clear as daylight was a message with a single word.

‘Touch’.

Derek gave him the phone back, studying the high school kid for a moment. Stiles looked at his phone without looking actually at it. Apprehension was strong on his skin, but another scent rolled around as well and Derek knew the teen was struggling with himself, trying to get the courage to go through the task. Blocking his own thoughts, Derek reached out and softly touched the young face. Stiles turned to look at him, a bit surprised and relieved as Derek traced his cheek bone with his fingers to his nose. As if he were blind, or trying to make sure his eyes were seeing correctly, he let his hand roam around the warm skin, taking in his eyebrows, his temples and even his hairline with a questing touch.

“Better?” he asked Stiles “Exploring and touching.”

Stiles smirked slowly reaching out to touch the wolf’s eyebrows and beard.

“These are gone when you transform,” he noticed “Where do they go?”

Derek blinked. He had never stopped to consider that.

“I don’t know,” he said “it’s just the way I shift.”

“Why Scott and you never become the scary monster into which Peter shifted when he was the alpha?”

Derek looked at him, marginally noticing as Stiles’ fingers touched all the spots on his face that changed when he shifted. Forehead, ears, sideburns, nose, eyebrows, jaw, and then ghosted around the corner of his mouth before he pulled his hand away. Looking at the teen, he parted his lips and then bared his gums slightly, pushing his face closer. Stiles searched his eyes before slowly reaching to his mouth. Derek couldn’t resist it and suddenly made biting move that made the human yelp and pull back his hand moving away from the older guy.

“Oh my God!” he curled his hand against his chest.

Derek laughed and bared his gums again.

“Come on, explore.”

Stiles frowned at him.

“Bad wolf.”

Derek only laughed amused. The joke seemed to ease Stiles a little, who reached to touch Derek’s teeth, prying his jaws open to check them out inside as well and running his fingers over the canines.

“Do you mind…?”

Derek dropped his fangs slowly and held them while Stiles touched them, pressing his fingerpads against the tips and looked even closer at them.

“I think yours are longer than Scott’s.”

He handled his face now concentrating on his eyes.

“Can I see them…?”

Derek blinked once and then widened a little his eyes in concentration to keep them open while candescent ice-blue bled slowly over the green fields of his orbs until the supernatural luminescence covered them entirely. Stiles moved closer to the wolf, turning his head this way and that to better look at his eyes.When the teen was done, Derek captured his hands and looked at them, turning them around in his hands, pulling a little on the tips of the fingers and touching the bones. He leaned a little to his fingers as if smelling them and then leaned towards the young face, taking his scent.

“You put your fingers in your mouth a lot.”

Stiles laughed, a little uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he agreed, his free hand going to his mouth, index finger rubbing under his lower lip “I do that.”

His hands slid then up the arms of the teenager touching his lean muscles, the soft skin covering it until his arm melted into his chest. Thin, boyish chest. Stiles also reached out slowly, fingers tracing his well-toned biceps.

“You are really big,” he commented, not really expecting an answer. Then he looked up at the wolf a bit apprehensive, “I mean, your arms.”

Derek lifted one eyebrow questioning him.

“I mean…” he stuttered automatically glancing down between the wolf’s legs where he saw his shaft resting peacefully in a nest of pubes. Shame took him over so he shot his eyes up, clashing his gaze with that of the wolf, much aware of him checking his goods, and then his eyes bounced around not knowing where would it be safe to look. “I … I mean…”

“Just shut up and keep going,” Derek all but barked at him.

Truth to be told, Stiles had never felt so grateful for the man’s succinct vocabulary. He pulled the wolf forward as he checked the tattoo on his back – an evident way to use the task to avoid looking directly at the wolf, unintentionally pushing Derek closer to his knees, where he had an unobstructed view of his manhood. Derek’s heart sunk as he saw the flaccid organ and realized he couldn’t feel a thing other than what he felt for his sisters. While Stiles traced his tattoo, he touched those long, thin legs, hands wrapping around the calves and the ankles, touching the jutting bones of his feet. How would he do it, when all he saw was someone he had to protect, a weak Beta from his back, a young sibling that can’t still defend himself properly?

Slowly they mapped each other’s body completely, with fingers tracing taut bellies and hard packed stomachs. Derek’s fingers were gently tracing the loin lines of his playmate, when he pulled back a little, hands linking before him, shoulders slumping forward. The wolf took his hand away fast, and watched the kid attentively, as if he expected him to burst in flames.

“I’ve something to tell you,” Stiles started slowly.

He could feel the wolf’s stare on him, his calm silence and once again he found himself thanking the very features that usually irked him.

“I won’t… like it?” his face crunched as he half peeked at the wolf, just the way he did when he gave his dad less-than-good news and somehow braced for shouting.

Derek kept his eyes on him, his gaze going for a moment to his chest as if to let him know he was paying attention to him, that he was processing the information, and then went back to his eyes again, expectant. Stiles knew Scott would be full of questions. What didn’t he like? How did he know? And so on. Derek sat there, naked, next to him and seemed to hold the whole world from collapsing with his silence, holding it back while Stiles paused, looked at him and then tried to elaborate. He brought his knees up and rested his elbows on them and then concentrated on picking his nails in order to avoid looking at the former alpha.

“I’ve done research, and…” he gesticulated with his hands “… done some things, and… it’s not for me.”

He looked at Derek to gather his reaction. He was looking at his own hands and then away at the pond considering what the teen told him.

“You’d… like to quit?”

Stiles sighed.

“It’s not what I’m saying…”

“Then what are you saying?”

There was not a single tone of anger or exasperation in Derek’s voice, and that wasn’t lost on the teen. He picked at his nails again before answering.

“Deaton mentioned pleasure…” he couldn’t keep blush from running to his face and disgracefully spread all the way to the middle of his chest “but… that won’t apply to me…” he fleetingly looked at the wolf before picking in his nails again “and… I thought you should know.”

Derek didn’t say a thing while Stiles went silent and left his nails in peace and rather started throwing pebbles at the pond.

“I’ve been trying to come up with something, anything that would at least not make it feel like rape.”

He noticed the change in the way Derek held his body, and a nearly imperceptible low growl. He looked at him and saw his features set hard and tensed. He could see his jaws tense beneath the skin, and only then occurredto him that he might have said something he shouldn’t have. Like maybe Derek – former Alpha and werewolf extraordinaire (even if he hardly won any matches lately) - took it as an offense that he wouldn’t trust his bedroom skills.

“Perhaps this person you slept with…”

“Oh no,” Stiles hurried to correct him “I tried it all by myself. No one else was involved.”

The wolf’s face not only relaxed but his eyebrows went way up and stared at him with such amazement it took at least twenty years off his face. He blinked once, twice and then narrowed his eyes.

“How did you…?”

Stiles blushed again, a deeper shade of red if that was possible, and bit his lips. The scrutiny of the wolf seemed so deep he could hardly hold himself under his gaze, eventually turning away. He never saw Derek’s face as realization came upon him, eyes widening again, mouth thorn between hanging open in disbelief and fighting back a smile of amusement at imagining the teen in such a position.

“So you…”

“Yes!” Stiles shout up exasperated, boiling in his shame “I put my fingers up my ass, and trust me dude, that’s nothing like jerking off!”

Derek leaned back on hands and looked away, tongue coming out to lick his upper lip and try to vanish his burning desire to burst at the seams laughing.

“And it wasn’t once,” Stiles continued, and Derek had never been so grateful of Stiles not being a wolf or he would have noticed how amused he really was with all this absurd situation “I did try, I did…”

He shut up and looked at his own hands, his own long fingers.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted on a softer voice “it doesn’t feel good, it feels awkward and… embarrassing.”

Derek was going to say something, but the teen spoke again.

“And that was awkward and unpleasant with my fingers, and you…” not even looking at the wolf, he made a gesture with his hand meaning his general direction “you are bigger!”

“I may not be as big and scary as you picture me, Stiles.”

“Oh, you are big, trust me,” Stiles assured him with absolute certainly, eyes widening, head nodding, as if he were reciting one of the axioms of the Universe. The Sun comes up East, sets at West, werewolves are real and Derek is big.Massive.

In the silence that came after he imagined the wolf rolling his eyes at him, so he turned to give him the chance to roll them in his face. However Derek wasn’t rolling his eyes, but watching him, almost waiting for him. The wolf who was already leaning back on his hands leaned back further, opening up the front of his body to his burning gaze, and let down the knee closest to Stiles. The young man panicked for a second, stuck in an awkward place from which he would have loved to escape all the way to Mexico. 

There it was, Derek’s manhood, in plain sight, and man, he was big. Big deer eyes jumped up to green fields, as if asking the wolf what was he supposed to do with it now. Shake hands? The wolf wouldn’t move, looking at the teen and then at his own body, wrapped in a calmness Stiles couldn’t begin to comprehend.

The teen reached out, but before he would let his fingers skim the skin, he stopped to check with the wolf. Maybe all Derek meant with opening his body was for Stiles to visually corroborate his theory about his size. However the wolf remained calm, his stance open for exploration.

“I guess we are really doing the exploring and the touching,” he muttered, to which Derek replied with a silent laugh that curled his lips beautifully.

His fingers reached out and carefully traced the wolf’s soft penis. He would have looked up to make sure it was okay with Derek – again – but the sheer act of touching another man’s cock brought shame to his face. Instead he tried to concentrate as clinically as possible on the matter. Even flaccid, when he held it in his hand it was far longer than his fingers and thicker. He wished, really wished Derek were a shower, but something told him that this dick he was holding in his hand would hulk up on him, and if not turning green, it would certainly become bigger, heavier and far stronger. A thought, small worded thought, started hammering inside him: ‘this will go inside you’, ‘this will go inside you, ‘this will go inside you’.

He tried to think rationally, looking between his own legs he realized that his own cock was thicker and longer than the fingers he used to open himself, and gay guys liked it for a reason, a whole lot of them, so… so… so he still tried it out and didn’t like it.

“I’ve tried,” Stiles spoke again softly while still tracing and rolling the limp dick in his hand “have been trying to get, you know, used to it.” He looked up to the wolf squinting again. “But when it’s not really uncomfortable, it’s painful and uncomfortable.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Derek said calmly.

“Dude,” Stiles let go of his penis and faced him “I already fingerfucked my own ass and know I don’t like it. It’s not worry, it’s knowing.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’ve done it,” he said matter-of-factly “and unless I’ve been skillfully lied to, I’m not so bad at it.”

Stiles frowned.

“But I thought you said you’ve never had sex with men.”

Those bushy eyebrows went up again waiting for realization to hit Stiles. When it did, his eyebrows also went up.

“Ohh…”

And then…

“Ohhhh man!” he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes “Now you put images in my head! I really don’t want you in my head with Allison’s aunt or my English teacher! Gross!”

And here he was trying to be supportive. His hand came hard slapping the back of the teen’s skull.

“Can we get back on topic?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his head.

“Sure. Want me to ask advise from your dead, psychotic ex-girlfriends about how to take you up the ass?”

Derek gave him one of his sarcastic “you are so funny” smiles. He took then a few breaths and organized his thoughts in his head.

“I have a question to ask you,” he faced the teen, pushing his upper body forward, bending both his knees and resting his arms on them “that dream you had the other night, what was it about?”

Stiles’ eyes widened, he blinked twice perhaps and looked away.

“I… I…” he stuttered.

Derek grabbed him by the elbow and made him look at him.

“This is important, Stiles.”

Stiles searched his face with surprise. Why was Derek looking at him as if he had the key to disarm all the nuclear weapons in the world?

“I don’t know… I dreamed about Lydia, I guess.”

Derek shook his head.

“No,” he said “this dream was different. I have heard you having wet dreams and this wasn’t like that.”

No words left Stiles, but he frowned trying to grasp the meaning of Derek’s words.

“I don’t remember much of that dream.”

“What do you remember?”

Stiles searched his head but found that he couldn’t remember anything about it, instead his brain offered him some other of Lydia’s Greatest Hits.

“Nothing… really, but why is it important?”

Derek searched his eyes as if through them he could go through the memory files stored inside the teen’s head and find what he was looking for.

“You speak in your sleep, and thrash around a lot,” he explained.

“I know that,” Stiles said.

“That night you didn’t make a sound,” Derek explained waiting for Stiles’ reaction, which as expected came with the teen straightening up, his face becoming serious “you didn’t say a word, neither did you move. It was actually your heart what work me up.”

“My heart?” Stiles asked in disbelieve.

Derek nodded.

“It sounded like wild horses.”

Stiles placed all of his attention on the wolf, eyes widening and waiting for him to continue.

“Your breathing was also wrong, as if you were in the middle of a seizure. You smelled aroused, but other than your smell everything looked like you were being paralyzed by fear,” the wolf explained “When I tried to woke you up, you burned me.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles scouted closer without really noticing it.

“Your body was filled with some kind of… energy,” Derek tried to explain “some white energy that burned to touch and got inside me,” he looked at his hands remembering. Then he looked back at the teen “Yesterday I was running on that energy, what little I’ve got from shaking you awake. I could run faster, pull more weight, jump higher, and didn’t run tired.” His hand came again to grab Stiles by the forearms, as if trying to convince him “If this is the energy Deaton was talking about, and if we will collect the whole of it and add my own… Scott will be invincible.”

The teen’s eyes went impossibly wide.

“I need you to remember that dream, Stiles,” Derek insisted “if there’s anything in it to unleash that energy again, we must try it.”

Stiles bit his fingernail. That dream, what was in that dream? If what Derek said was true – and why wouldn’t it be true? Derek wasn’t known for lying – then they did have a shot. A shot that could come undone because…

“Let me worry about making the sex work,” Derek said tightening his hand a little, in a voice that said he had just rolled his eyes again.

Stiles forced a smile on his face and nodded, when suddenly Derek’s limp cock came into view. That stopped him and made him look at the wolf.

“Wait, how are you going to make it work? For you.”

Derek’s jaw tensed a little.

“I’ll worry about that too.”

“But…” Stiles stole a glance at the cock he had been touching, which had remained soft and uninterested “you’ll have to…” he raised a little his fist and arm to crudely show a boner. “I mean, I’ve touched you, and I know you are big on control and all that, but…” he started gesticulating frantically.

“Stiles!” He stopped short from whacking him again “I’ll manage.”

Stiles bit his lips feeling really stupid. He was worrying about not liking taking it up the ass, and there was Derek who would have to manage to get hard and fuck a guy he pretty much only tolerated due to the circumstances.

“Anything I could do?” he asked “Paint some lashes across my face, borrow the Argent’s necklace…”

Derek smiled and pushed him playfully, getting up and helping the boy up. Stiles smirked as his joke was well received. Then Derek leaned closer to his ear.

“Want me to tell you which one I took up the ass?”

Stiles’ smirk froze in his face and then quickly grimaced.

“Dude! Mental pictures! I’ll have to bleach my eyes and my brain! Don’t do that!!”

Derek smiled satisfied as he walked to the pile of their clothes and started putting them on. They had issues to work with regarding the ritual, and he didn’t want to tell Stiles how difficult he found it to even think of having sex with him, let alone doing it. Yes, he had no idea how would he coax his body into obedience, force it to get hard and then push into his body, all too aware of the absolute lack of sexual attraction from both parties, and then fearing, constantly fearing he would force his body on the teen, that he would do more damage than good. He needed to believe that he could make him feel good, that he could trick his mind for the period of the ritual, that all he wanted in life was to bone that lanky body, and then… and then hope for the best.

Stiles was at his side before he noticed, picking his own clothes and putting them on.

“Let’s grab some take out,” the teen said “let’s not do any cooking tonight.”

“Already tired of my cooking?” Derek teased with a smile that came out sexier than he intended. The way Stiles’ eyes shifted to his mouth, the heat peeling in a thin, nearly imperceptible layer from his cheeks, almost went by unnoticed. That gesture got stored, though in his head and a brief flutter he may or may not need to decode later.

“Nah,” he said quickly composing himself, shaking his head a little as if chasing away an odd, stray thought “I don’t want you to slave in the kitchen for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet Another So-Called Fun Fact: I don't know how other writers do it or are with it, but for me stories not always end up the way I planned them ahead. Characters sometimes make their own decisions and go against my preordained scenes. Derek and Stiles have done that quite a lot in this fic. (Which never happens with Peter, I can write Peter just fine). For instance, in this chapter, at the pond I had a scene planned out. It was in my notes when I was still in chapter 3 or 4, and it was perfect. Really.
> 
> In the scene I had planned, after Stiles told Derek he wouldn't like anal sex, Derek tells him not to worry about it, that he would manage. Stiles goes on and on about how he know he won't like it, that he had tried it out and didn't work... pretty much like it happened in his chapter. Except that Derek instead of telling him he have done it, he asks Stiles to lay on his stomach. Stiles does and then Derek starts dragging slowly his fingers down his shoulders, his shoulder blades, his back... a bit of a massage, but mostly a nice, sexy caress. Derek reaches to his butt and as he keeps touching him, caressing him harder, Stiles starts lifting his butt into Derek's hand. Derek slids his fingers between his cheeks, but as he would reach his anus - Stiles lifting his hips - he stops and leans over Stiles to whisper in his ear "Sure you won't like it?".
> 
> The scene didn't get in because the guys just wouldn't cooperate, and once written I had no idea how to add this scene in, so it was left out.
> 
> This chapter also proved much more difficult than all previous ones, and I wasn't sure about how right had I depicted both characters, so I kept pestering and pestering my beta readers over and over demanding them to find me the "thing" that didn't make the chapter work. Now that I think of it, I have probably terrorized them, and they probably thought they were working with a psycho who sees ghosts in fanfics. I'm sorry for that, girls. I think I owe them both big time.


	7. Feed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last day before ritual. Stiles starts realizing how much Derek is just like him, and his perspective on the wolf changes. It's the day of the last task before they must do what they had signed for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, this chapter is a tad longer than the ones before, and... I couldn't wait up for the final beta-reading, so it will be probably peppered with a lot of mistakes - some mine and some from whatever the weirdness Word does - and my sometimes awful grammar. There's not many ways to make reference to Stiles or Derek, so eventually it becomes somewhat cacophonous. Would you forgive me for that?
> 
> Would still like to thank my betas for all their hard work, because this chapter has been previously beta-read... I just worked on it and may have undone some of the work.
> 
> So, without further ado, here's the chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Saturday at last! Stiles opened up his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His heart was beating a bit hard and it hurt somewhat. It seemed to be jumping around in his chest in panic. It was Saturday, and it stopped meaning that he didn’t have to go to school, but it meant that he was only one day away from losing his virginity to no other than Derek Hale, a guy who didn’t even found him attractive. He let out a pitiful sigh while willing his whole body to calm down and avoid a panic attack, when he felt the bed was… different. Slowly turning his head, he found the wolf next to him also staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“Morning,” he said softly.

Derek turned at him, his face calm and peaceful with a particular quality to it that Stiles could only describe as “human”. Of course the wolf wouldn’t waste one of his few smiles so early in the morning, but there wasn’t a growl either. Green eyes looked at him, acknowledging him without judging him, much like an older brother would.

“Morning,” he replied before turning his eyes one more time to the ceiling, as if to close the thought he had pinned there, and then got up.

For some reason Stiles couldn’t explain to himself, he didn’t detach his eyes from the frame of the wolf, though he knew perfectly well that underneath the sheets Derek would be as naked as he was, and yet his gaze stayed on his skin, taking the whole of it in the morning light that filtered through the curtains. From broad shoulders to his nice ass and past to his strong thighs, deer-brown orbs skated over those plains, watching muscles flex, move, stretch and work at ease in a series of common, yet amazing movements to lift that body from bed and have it walk around, search in the closet for clothes. He pushed himself up on the bed and rubbed his face.

“Thought you would be up much earlier,” he slowly pushed the sheets aside and stood up to get for his own clothes, picking up his jeans from the floor and his socks and pressing them to his nose to decide whether they could be used another day “for training… or that ironman thing you do in the yard.”

Derek’s eyes were lazy on him, probably washing over his lanky, naked body but not even stopping to consider him, instead holding the same gaze he would hold if he were fully clothed. He reached out and took Stiles’ socks from his hands and threw them back on the pile that most probably meant “laundry”.

“You wear those another day and the stench of them would kill me faster than wolfsbane.”

Stiles grinned.

“Then I should put them in a plastic bag and mature it some more to use it against you.”

The face the wolf made of disgust and disbelief – mostly disgust, like 99% disgust – amused the teen.

“Things like these are the reason why I find it so hard to trust in you,” he stated, still eying the teen as if he were something dangerous he needed to keep away from, walking then slowly towards the bathroom.

The comment didn’t even make a dent in the teen’s spirit, who ran through his clothes picking fresh socks, underwear and the first t-shirt that came at hand. He then went to the laundry pile and picked the socks and smelled them better.

“Whoa…” he threw them back on the pile, frowning his nose and closing his eyes “that could kill me right now.”

Of course, those were his lacrosse socks, the ones he should have discarded after practice, and which somehow found their way back into the “maybe” pile… which kind of was the same as the laundry pile.

Water was running in the shower, so while the wolf finished – really, wasn’t he going to train today? – he put on his old trainers – which he normally used to sleep with – and padded into the kitchen to start some sort of breakfast. Coffee was first, so he put that with the measures he by now knew Derek liked. Eggs, bacon, bread for toasts… he took out the basic ingredients for one of the few types of breakfast he knew he could make – nothing as fancy as pancakes or waffle - and put a skillet with oil on the burner while he decided whether it would be fried eggs or scrambled. Well, not like Stiles would decide that, but more like it depended on how he managed to crack the eggs. It always started as fried eggs, but usually ended up scrambled. Now, thanks to Scott’s mom he also knew that to make those scrambled eggs look like they were scrambled on purpose, he was supposed to sprinkle them with salt and pepper.

By the time the wolf was out of the bathroom, which happened quite quickly, the fate of the eggs had been decided.

“Scrambled eggs?” Derek looked into the pan.

“Yeah,” Stiles said “missed again with the fried ones.”

The wolf made a face that suggested approval or understanding or simply “ok”, and then lifted his eyebrows eying the bacon frying right next to the eggs.

“That looks healthy,”

“Don’t tell my dad or he will want some,” he smiled, and to his surprised something that suggested a ‘smile’ stretched the lips of the wolf for a moment.

Like an old choreography practiced through many years, Derek passed behind Stiles, grabbed two mugs, filled them with coffee, and cutlery for two and took it to the table while the teen reached over to the toaster and grabbed the two popping slices putting them on plates already set on the counter with other two toasts on them. Derek returned, passed again behind the teen and took the butter and the jam heading again towards the table.

“The bacon is going to burn.”

Stiles didn’t even think about smart mouthing or saying anything as he turned off the stove and moved the skillet over the plates distributing the eggs and the bacon pretty much evenly before taking them to the table.

“Really,” Stiles placed a plate before Derek and sat down going for the coffee as soon as his hand put down his own plate “how come you aren’t training?”

“I don’t train every day,” the wolf answered simply.

“Yes you do,” Stiles countered.

Derek eyed him and didn’t reply. It wasn’t worth a reply.

“Didn’t feel like it.”

Well, knowing Stiles, he knew he wouldn’t let it at that.

“Because of this whole thing?”

So maybe answer or no answer wasn’t a way to get Stiles to shut up. Of course, Derek should have known that by then. Derek forked up some eggs and bacon and pushed it into his mouth. His eyes briefly flashed up, towards the teen, and then looked back at the breakfast. Stiles pursed his mouth and understood the answer. The wolf might be tough and controlled all he wanted, but in the end he was probably just as nervous about the whole deal as he was. Stiles shoveled the breakfast into his mouth stealing glances at the guy in front of him and slowly looking at him in a different light. Suddenly his muscles, his perfectly toned body, his large hands, jaws covered in stubble, his fitting black jeans, safety toe boots, leather jacket and tight henleys were nothing but a cover, a mask behind which hid a guy just like him, who could also find himself in a tight spot and ignore the way out. A half smile tugged his mouth as he found himself looking at just another guy eating his breakfast, subject to the same hunger and sleepiness and thirst he was subjected too.

Derek looked up and caught him staring with that half smile on. He pushed back on his chair, putting down his fork and swallowing the food in his mouth.

“What?”

Stiles’ smile didn’t falter.

“Why don’t you smile more?”

“I smile enough,” Derek shoved some bacon into his mouth.

“But I’ve hardly ever seen you smile.”

“Maybe there’s nothing to smile about when you are around.”

Stiles got back to his food in silence. Well, Derek was right, after all neither Scott nor him ever actually paid the wolf any social visits, but rather looked him up when they were in trouble, or there was trouble. However, he had seen Peter smile. Sure, that had been disturbing, and Peter smiling meant usually problems for everybody. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a fork being put down. He looked at the wolf, and there it was. A glance of annoyance and then those eternally brooding features stretched in a wonderful, winning smile, eyes lighting up and… yes...that was a heartbeat missing, breathing caught for a moment.

“Happy?” Derek said still keeping the smile on “Can I get off the interrogation now?”

Stiles nodded not physically able to take his eyes off the wolf. Yes, he had seen smiles, mostly when he had ulterior motives, smiles that were used always along with lies, but this smile, beautiful as it was, was also part of a lie? Maybe the lie of the two of them going through the tasks, bunking up together to get ready for the ritual. The smile was dropped as fast and easy as it appeared, and he resumed breakfast. Stiles looked at him some more, and then smiled for himself.

“You should smile more.”

“Because I never know when could someone be falling in love with it?” he replied in clear imitation of Lydia. Evidently she had dropped that line more often than Stiles expected.

“Nah,” Stiles said “lots of people fall for you just for the way you look. However I might have been less scared about this whole deal if you came off like a more approachable guy.”

“You don’t act like you are afraid of me, Stiles. You upset me on purpose.”

“That’s because I’m brave.”

“Or stupid.”

They finished breakfast and Derek couldn’t help to notice how there was absolutely no anger between them. A week ago such an exchange of words would have upset him and would have made the teen stomp or do something equally childish, but this time he wasn’t upset, and Stiles was calmly, quietly there, picking up his plate and doing that marginal, friendly little smile thing he did that made the whole thing so familiar. A smile like an instinctive reflex. He lowered his face and let a small, responsive smile out.

He stood up and picked up the mugs, walking after the teen and leaving them in the sink.

“Do we have plans for today?”

Derek shook his head.

“Not that I know of.”

Silence took residence there, as Stiles did the dishes and Derek cleaned up the rest of the table and helped put things away. Then, as he rinsed the mugs, he realized that the silence between them, the unfinished conversation, the fact that they had absolutely nothing to do, and yet they were there, somehow around each other, somehow doing something, had stopped being awkward. He turned astonished and looked at the wolf behind him wiping the counter, face relaxed, no hurry in his movements that would speak of his need to get away from him. Probably something from his scent gave him up, for Derek looked up at him, his face serene, expectant, but not even raising his eyebrows as he did when he was losing his patience. Stiles blinked, twisted his mouth and turned back to the dishes. Yes, it had stopped being awkward. But when? Or was it that once you were sleeping naked with someone and touching their bits awkward just flew out of the window?

There wasn’t anything awkward as they finished in the kitchen – well, Derek seemed to finish first – and then he walked to the bedroom and got busy there… probably making the bed. Stiles moved to the bathroom, took finally a shower and did his best to somewhat clean the bathroom… somewhat, yeah, like… some. He felt… aware, like it was Awareness Saturday or something, though not in the sense of freaking him out, but as if he were walking and discovering a new planet. He was discovering Derek-is-Actually-Like-A-Human-Being Planet. The tiny shower where he had finger fucked himself, was wet and warm and smelled of… shower. Like, you know, like Derek taking a shower, which was evident because Derek had taken a shower – duh! – but it was that… thing about it. The damp towel, the wet tiles, the scent of the quite generic soap bar Derek used, one partial wet footprint on the floor, from where he stepped out of the shower.

His fingers slid across the wet tiles and then he brought them to his face, smelling the residual scent left in them. Before he could think better, his fingers brushed the edge of Derek’s towel and his face got closer to get the smell from it. Not so good, actually, but his own towel smelled as well and he suspected that it was because of the tiny bathroom and its poor ventilation. He stood there, naked for a moment, in the middle of the shower before getting the water going. It was strange to think that today was the first day in his life – even before he actually heard of werewolves – that he actually thought of Derek as an actual person, and not some sort of monster, be it a beast with glowing eyes responsible of everything that was wrong in Beacon Hills and his life, or some weird recluse close to becoming Beacon Hills’ own Norman Bates. The idea that Derek could be just like him was groundbreaking.

Well, Derek did make the bed, and Stiles thought about lunging up the laundry and getting it done, when right then he remembered that there was no point in doing so. Tomorrow he would be heading home – if the world didn’t end – back to his home, his dad, his own bed – where he would sleep alone and clothed… and why did that feel so… sad? Why was the thought of not having to do laundry because everything was getting to an end wrapping around his heart like a vice? He shook his head and fed himself a string of pretty good excuses. It was because what he was dreading was the ritual, because of course he was missing his dad and his own bed, and the freedom to fall asleep and know that he could jerk off in the morning if that pleased him, and also because Beacon Hills was in serious danger and the moon was about to be full and the monsters would come out and play… and one of those monsters was right there with him, remember? He reminded himself purposefully of all the times Derek had been in his suspect list, the times he had glared at him, smacked him to the wall, the dashboard of his jeep, threatened him – yeah, remember that ripping his throat out with his teeth? That sounded a lot like turning his human ass into a wolfy ass, or get him the rabies, to say the least! – or did that face that told him that he personally thought the world had one too many Stiles in it. Yeah, this was all an act – even if Derek was actually quite human and quite like him, yeah – because Derek didn’t really like him. At all.

He went to the living area, pulled his backpack from the corner and sat down to do some of his homework. Derek lounged on the couch doing something. His studying was peppered with messages back and forth with Scott until they culminated on a call.

“How are things going?”

Stiles smiled and looked over to Derek.

“They are going fine.”

“Is he treating you well?”

Stiles couldn’t avoid being warmly touched by his best friend’s concern, but as he was going to answer he heard Derek move off the couch and stand up.

“I’m treating him just fine!” he said and made his way towards the door “I’ll be out.”

Stiles smiled at him apologetically, and he could see in the way the wolf looked at him, that he saw his apology and accept it, which again brought that feeling, that familiar thing nesting in his chest. Was it there to stay or would it evaporate once the ritual was over? Both options were suddenly dreadful.

“Is he?”

He could hear the concern lingering still in Scott’s voice. He sighed and leaned back in his chain.

“He’s gone out of his way treating me nicely.”

“Derek?”

“Yes.”

“The same Derek that always is at the top of all your suspect lists? That Derek?”

“He’s not at the top of all my suspect lists,” Stiles complained.

“But he’s always in your top five,” Scott countered and Stiles couldn’t really reply to that, so he rubbed his face again.

They remained silent again until Scott spoke again.

“So… he’s treating you well, then.”

“More than well,” Stiles replied and couldn’t leave out of his voice a tiny pang of sadness “he’s really, really nice, like… nothing like the Derek we know.”

“Uhum…” Scott let him go on.

Stiles made noises trying to come up with a way to explain Scott what he was experiencing, how they pretty much haven’t argued - okay, except the day of the second task, and maybe that off morning – and how he have actually noticed how Derek was purposefully not chewing him out though in the past half of the things they have gone through would have warranted screaming matches from his part and head banging from the wolf’s part.

“Are you getting over Lydia and falling for Derek?”

Stiles blinked. Though he had been teased with it for a whole week, the serious tone of Scott took away all the fooling, and he sighed.

“That would make it so much easier, wouldn’t it?” he cradled the phone against his ear and idly paged through his homework.

Scott waited at the other end of the phone, patiently, in such a way, his soft breathing coming gently through the line, that Stiles could almost feel him right next to him, leaning towards him, knees spread and elbows resting on them, looking at him intently, ready to jump forward and help him or team in some quest. He had to smile. Scott was definitively the best friend that had ever walked on the face of the Earth.

“No,” he finally said “and that’s the problem.”

“Wasn’t this all living together arrangement meant for you two to get along and make this work?”

“It was.”

“So?”

Stiles rubbed his face.

“The problem is that I grew to like Derek.”

“O…kay?”

He could hear Scott wasn’t following him, and he couldn’t blame him.

“I like him like a person,” Stiles explained “not like some hot guy I want to ride into the sunset.”

“Oh…o… kay?”

A hint of perplexity in Scott’s voice was evident, which amused Stiles a little. Scott already knew or suspected that he was up for pretty much any sort of experimentation, and not just for the kick of it, but because he was actually very curious. Too curious, maybe, for his own benefit. He had no boundaries around him dropping the occasional open comment about wanting or willing or wondering about doing something with another dude, and Scott had never reacted surprised – mostly either amused or fed up with it – so this tone was new in their relationship.

“I mean,” he explained “he’s so much like us.”

“Derek Hale,” Scott said expecting a sort of clarifying of the subject. So ok, the world was right on its track, as Stiles understood that the perplexity in Scott’s voice was about liking Derek as a ‘person’ and not about whether Stiles would hop on some guy’s lap and perform an inverted cowgirl.

“Yes!” Stiles couldn’t keep his excitement away from his voice as he was getting understood “The Derek Hale!”

There was silence on the line.

“Sorry, dude,” he could hear Scott’s smile through his voice “but hearing this FROM YOU! It’s just…”

Stiles nodded.

“Yeah, I’m worried too,” he said “But promise me that if I ever say that Peter is nice and trustworthy you’ll shoot me dead on the spot.”

“I’ll salt and burn your remains too.”

“Good thinking.”

Another pause stretched between them.

“Sooo… now?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles looked at the door through which Derek had left picturing the wolf “I know this nice person isn’t really him, or at least it’s not the Derek he is when he’s around me, but I really, really like him, and that makes the whole thing about… you know… having sex with him tomorrow just wrong. It’s like,” he racked his hand through his hair looking at the ceiling “I don’t know…” he realized he had no way to explain how wrong it felt “like having sex with your best friend when you clearly don’t look at him that way.”

A little pause, not even two full seconds and-

“You clearly don’t mean me.”

“Oh, no,” Stiles rectified “ever since you became a werewolf I so look at you that way.”

Scott laughed into the phone.

“Sexy, just sexy,” Stiles continued masterfully keeping the serious tone in his voice “the claws, the teeth, the glowing eyes, hmmm, makes me wanna jump you every time.”

Scott laughed hard. They talked some more, and when they finally hung up Stiles realized he didn’t really want to do any more homework, and that he kind of wanted to just hang around Derek a little. No biggie, really, but he kind of… like… missed him. Besides, he really, really liked this Derek and he might as well spend as much time as he could with him, while he had the excuse to do so, and before things went back to normal. Odd feeling. He stopped at the door, as his hand wrapped around the handle, ready to open it, and looked back at the tiny, tiny house. Derek’s jacket was on the couch, his backpack under the table, homework spread around, mugs upside down next to the sink, dripping after being washed, the keys of the Camaro on the corner of the kitchen counter, casually next to the keys of his jeep. The cases of the horror movies he had rented were on the coffee table along with some local paper folded in four. Light was pouring through the windows and Stiles realized that he actually liked this tiny house very much.

Outside Derek was leaning against his car, bouncing a ball against a wall. He walked over and noticed by the nearly imperceptible move of his head that the wolf had also noticed his presence. They didn’t exchange a word, Derek didn’t change his rhythm in bouncing the ball off the wall, didn’t even actually looked at Stiles as he leaned against his car, reached for the ball as it was bouncing back, and threw it against the wall, changing slightly the game as now they caught and bounced the ball in turns.

“Would you like to go to the park and play some ball?” Stiles ventured to ask eventually.

Derek threw the ball and watched it bounce, following it as Stiles caught it and threw it back to the wall.

“Wouldn’t you like to spend some time with your dad?”

Stiles was keeping his eyes on the ball and shrug slightly.

“I’ll see him tomorrow.”

They bounced the ball in silence some more until Derek’s phone rang.

“It’s Deaton,” he said straightening to answer. Stiles caught the ball and waited. “Yes?”

The wolf nodded and said nothing, and Stiles wished he had wolf hearing to know what where they talking about.

“Okay, we’ll be there,” Derek said before ending the call.

Stiles didn’t need to say a word, just lifted his eyebrows into his hairline, waiting for the wolf to share.

“He wants to see us.”

Deaton received them both with his usual smile, which somehow didn’t make Stiles feel so much better. After all this was the man sending them awkward tasks to complete. And really, how could he look so nice and smiley as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened after sending them to sleep together naked and making them touch? They greeted and then, just by the way Deaton looked at their hands, or the space between them, had them both react nearly instinctively coming closer together, only to realize then that their hands bumped into each other. They were already close! Did Deaton want them any closer? Because according to the laws of physics two bodies can’t occupy the same space.

“Hold hands,” the vet said.

Derek’s hand turned out, as if to cover Stiles’ hand, and the teen moved his fingers, walking them on the palm of the wolf as if to pull it closer and then clasped around the hand, feeling oddly safe as the wolf’s hand closed warmly around his. The odd feeling came over him as they both stood there like lost children in a fairy tale. His fingers instinctively tightened around the hand of the wolf, but as he realized the way too familiar, intimate implication it might have, and loosened his grip, the wolf closed his hand around his tighter. Yes, they were both lost children in the woods.

Deaton motioned for both to follow him and they did, looking at each other for a moment with not a single trace of awkwardness, but rather a “what now?” kind of thing going on.

“How are things going?” Deaton asked casually – maybe way too casually – as they walked to the back room where he normally did surgery.

Stiles looked at Derek and lifted his hands as if saying “what’s wrong with him?”, to which the wolf just lifted his eyebrows lost as well.

“Things are going fine,” Derek said.

Deaton looked back at them before he opened the door and let them in.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

A chair was set in the middle of the room, and some jars sat on the counter. This clearly meant that more exercises would be done.

“Any difficulties with the tasks?”

Stiles shook a little nervously, but Derek stilled him by again tightening his hold on his hand, which the teen replied in kind.

“No.”

Deaton turned to look at them in the eye. Derek was the usual wall he always was, unwilling to give any more information, while Stiles felt jumpy. Deaton looked at him, knowing well where he should place the pressure.

“They are awkward,” he confessed, somewhat relieved at the way Derek kept his strong hold on his hand. He knew his palms were sweating, but the wolf wasn’t letting him go.

“And how does that make you feel?”

Deaton kept smiling, but there was something about his stance that seemed somewhat threatening. Stiles held harder into Derek’s hand and his free hand also reached for the arm of the wolf, marginally hiding behind it. Warmth and relief coursed thought him as he saw Derek slightly lean his body in front of him as if to protect him.

“Awkward.”

Deaton watched them and smiled, his stance relaxing and the threat in his features vanishing as if by magic. He leaned against the counter behind him and his eyes went from one of them to another.

“As awkward as it would have been a week ago?”

Stiles stepped out from behind Derek, now next to him and they looked at each other, almost as if to agree a reply between themselves before speaking.

“Not that awkward, but awkward still,” Stiles replied. He looked at Derek to confirm, but the wolf was looking at the vet, eyes narrowing as if trying to figure something out. He looked at the vet and noticed his pleased look. Could it be that this was working – in his eyes – and the point of everything was to take the ‘awkward’ out of their relationship? Not that that helped anything with the actual sex part. So yes, they were no longer awkward around each other, but fact was that being ok with being naked didn’t make their dicks get hard or their asses – Stiles’ ass to be precise – enjoy the whole treatment. Derek still had to find a way to get it up.

“The success of this plan relies entirely on you two, do you understand?” Deaton eyed them. They nodded. “You two need to leave the awkward behind and work past whatever issues you have with each other and with yourselves,” he looked at them making sure they understood what he just said. Stiles was chewing his lips like a school kid scolded by a teacher, and Derek tried his best to remain still, expressionless, though his eyes slightly casting down spoke volumes for the Emissary. He knew him well. Derek was scared. He couldn’t stop marveling at how Stiles actually came off braver, dare he think stronger than Derek in this, though that was to be expected. Stiles had been exposed to rejection often and had learned to work his way against all odds and in the face of personal failure, while Derek had always fought to be prepared, mind and body, but had never prepared himself to the sort of social and emotional challenge he was facing now. He saw how it was now Stiles, the one holding Derek’s hand stronger, taking the lead in this battle. The wolf held into it, and to Deaton’s surprise, he read in that hold the first signs of trust.

“You think you can do it?”

Their hands held equally strong into each other at the question.

“Yes,” replied Derek and Stiles nodded to it.

Deaton searched their eyes and then smiling wide and bright nodded once.

“That’s good to hear,” he turned to the door as Scott was coming in “now we are all here for the exercise.”

“Hi guys,” Scott greeted them, momentarily thrown off as he saw them hold hands.

Stiles walked to him, big smile and greeted him with a half hug.

“Hi!”

Scott tried to get over the weirdness of it, but still looked down at the joined hands and back at his friend. Stiles looked briefly towards Deaton and Scott nodded. He knew about the tasks and imagined this was one of them, but it didn’t make it any less odd. What was stranger to him was that both Derek and Stiles seemed quite okay – actually quite comfortable – holding hands.

“Today’s exercise will be about energy,” Deaton explained.

“Like the thing with the powder the other day?”

The vet nodded.

“Stiles, take off your shirt and sit,” he directed him, tending his hand towards the chair.

Stiles pulled his mouth for a moment, but as he was going to take off his shirt his hand pulled along Derek’s hand. They looked at each other and then at the vet, who nodded letting them know they could stop holding hands. Their hands released each other quite gently, contrary to the hasty movement Scott would have expected to see. He turned to look at his boss, who met his eyes and nodded with a satisfied smile. He assumed things were going on well, but that still made the whole thing strange.

Stiles took off his shirt and walked to the chair. He was about to sit, when Deaton stopped him.

“Push your pants down past your hips, please.”

His eyes bulged, looking then at Derek as first instinct and then at his best friend. Scott’s eyes had bulged but then he had smiled reassuring him. It was what he expected from him, however it was the slight reassuring nod Derek gave him what put him at ease. Of course, he reasoned, it was because Scott and him were practically brothers and had seen each other naked plenty. His mind did provide him with a counter argument reminding him of his thoughts that morning, or realizing how well and comfortable he had grown to be around Derek, but he didn’t want to deal with the implications of that, so he ignored those thoughts. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down letting visible the whole pale, skinny expanse of his body. He sat down on the chair and curled his shoulders forward. Deaton lead both wolves towards him and placed Scott standing behind his back, hands on Stiles’ shoulders, and then pushed Derek to squat before him, between his legs.

“Put your hands on his hips,” the vet said guiding his hands in such a way that his thumbs rested on the channel of Stiles’ loin lines. “First you two,” he said looking at both wolves “you must connect with the energy in Stiles, create a channel between you and him.”

“How do we do that?” Scott asked.

Deaton smiled and turned to Derek.

“Would you show him?”

The wolf squatting between the thighs of the teen nodded then looked forward, somewhere around his happy trail and breathed deeply. His fingers tightened on his hips, thumbs digging into the loin lines when something slightly warm and buzzing happened there. He looked up at the younger wolf and then back at his own hands. As he lifted them a little, tendrils of something like a soft, white light stretched between his fingers, his palms and Stiles’ skin.

“Wow…” Stiles bulged his eyes “that’s so cool!”

“How you did it?”

Derek looked at Scott lifting his eyebrows.

“Use your senses,” he said the way he had said it years ago, in the beginning “seek out for his core.”

Scott nodded and tried connecting, fusing into his best friend. Stiles squirmed and laughed a little in the beginning, as the first attempt tickled.

“Find the energy currents under his skin,” Derek instructed him “almost like when you take away pain.”

“Okay,” Scott nodded concentrating, his fingers stretching stiff and then readjusting on the shoulders of his best friend.

“Easy,” the older wolf said “just look for the currents.”

“Okay,” Scott nodded again “I think I’ve got it.”

“Now let energy flow with it.”

Scott closed his eyes to concentrate better, and slowly relaxed into the river-like feeling of Stiles beneath his hands. His best friend giggled a couple of times, shoulders jumping up and his head pressing to the side, as if he were fighting off tickles, but slowly he got there. 

Deaton asked then both wolves to work the connection, strengthen it and keep it for as long as possible. As their hands were on him, Stiles couldn’t avoid comparing them, the steady, warm pressure of Derek’s hands and Derek’s connection and the pulsing connection of Scott and his confident, friendly hands. Once the connection between the wolves and Stiles was steady, Deaton produced one of his many jars with dark, colored powder.

“For the next part we will need the three of you to concentrate.”

He took a handful of powder from the jar and put it on Derek’s forearms. The powder coiled there and the sneaked around his forearms slowly, but staying there.

“This tracks your energy, you two already know it,” he looked between Derek and Stiles and they nodded “So now Derek will push his energy into Stiles’ body. Stiles,” and here he looked directly into his eyes “will move it to his chest,” he tapped his solar plexus “like we practiced the other day, and then move it to Scott’s hands.” Here he looked at the younger wolf “And you will gather it and take it into your body. Understood?”

The three of them nodded.

“Now Stiles,” he looked again at him, “this time it’s different, because it’s not your energy moving, though you’ll use your energy too, but you must make sure you carry Derek’s energy. This time the powder will only react to his energy.”

He nodded and looked at the wolf between his legs hoping for a spark of reassurance in his green eyes. Those green orbs stared at him open, and he smiled and nodded again. Derek adjusted his hands on Stiles’ hips, his thumbs absently rubbing into Stiles’ loin lines. The coils of powder on his forearms started moving slowly, sliding down the back of his hands and his fingers pooling gently on Stiles’ hips. Breathing deeply, he started willing the powder up his body to his chest, surprised at the strange feeling it brought with it.

“It’s… warm,” he said “warm inside me.”

“Concentrate on that,” Deaton came closer “That’s Derek’s energy.”

“Feels strange,” he said as he willed the warm current up his tummy, sliding slowly towards his heart.

The process was much slower than with the last exercise, trying to grasp that liquid-like energy inside himself, like trying to catch and drive the wind up a path in the air. The powder coiled around and at times seemed to fold back, spill towards his sides before Stiles managed to take a hold of it again, slowly reaching the indentation on his chest where both halves of his chest cage met. The tendrils flickered briefly, rolling in circles and then pulling back. Stiles’ jaw moved as he tensed in frustration, lips kind of pouting a little before he sucked them in to bite on them. Out of instinct Derek pressed his thumbs harder into Stiles’ hips as if his strength could supply the teen for what he lacked. Out of instinct also, Stiles’ left hand detached from the seat of the chair where it had been holding onto and touched the wolf’s right wrist, fingers spider walking, curling and then holding into it. The pressure of Derek’s thumb remained there, strong and constant as Stiles managed to grasp the reigns of the warm currents gently coiling inside him, moving dark, sparkly magical powder over his skin. His eyes met Derek’s almost as if in surprise, at the distinctively submissive way it was letting him manipulate it.

The eyes of the wolf met his, calm and gentle, and Stiles understood there that it wasn’t a submissive energy he felt, but to his surprise it was the power of the wolf letting himself flow around, letting the teen take the lead. He pulled and large lumps of energy surged from the arms of the wolf across his hips and tummy up to his chest. Though warm, the only thing Stiles could compare it with was to put his mouth to a faucet and gulping fresh water.

“Now towards Scott’s hands,” Deaton directed him “Scott, pull the energy towards yourself.”

Slowly but surely the currents crossing Stiles’ torso were drawn, all the powder moving from Derek’s forearms to Scott’s, and then collected and tried again and again. After a couple of hours and many repetitions of it the flow of energy seemed to have been achieved, and Stiles was completely exhausted.

“That will be all for today,” Deaton patted Stiles’ shoulder. “However, a few reminders.”

Both wolves and Stiles turned to look at the vet. Stiles was pulling on his shirt, feeling a little lightheaded. Scott looked at him, a little concerned, but he smiled and shook his head dismissing any worries. Derek, however, reached out touching his hip as if to steady him, and he couldn’t feel any more grateful at the gesture. He pulled the hem of his shirt down, and his hand reached for Derek’s, just for support, in case he would fall or something. Derek didn’t pull his hand away, but held him tight, yanking him slightly to have his shoulder collide with the broad chest of the wolf and support his weight on it.

“I won’t lie to you,” Deaton said “tomorrow will be awkward for many reasons and in many ways, and yet all through it you should all concentrate on this exercise,” he eyed them all long “You must make sure the energy flows and flows in the right direction.”

The three of them nodded.

“You two have made progress,” he said looking at Derek and Stiles “but that’s still not enough for the ritual. The level of comfort between the two of you may have improved in the last week, but tomorrow you will have to break yet another barrier.”

Stiles nodded lowering his head, slightly leaning more into Derek’s body, as if to seek refuge in it. The wolf let him, rubbing gently his thumb over his hand.

“And on top of the awkwardness between the two of you, Scott will also be there, close by.”

Scott turned to shyly look at his best friend and at the other wolf, both of whom were looking at him. He tried a sorry smile, which was replied by an equally sorry smile by Stiles. Derek looked at him, chin slightly high, jaws set hard as if ready to face battle at his side.

“At this point,” Deaton concluded, arms flapped around his own frame in the way he usually exercised his enigmatic druid stance “there’s no turning back. All our chips are piled on this one move.”

A fire akin to hatred, to the anger that fueled him in the face of battle spread across Derek’s chest reaching his eyes, flaming them up blue. His fingers curled hard around the hand he was holding, and not even the gentle touch of fingers against his wrist could tame it. The fingers of the hand he was holding then curled around him, hard and long. He looked at the teen at his side and it downed to him that this was the one with whom he would be going to battle.

At one point Scott had nodded and said something and Stiles half laughed, tugged Derek’s hand unconsciously. The wolf blinked, paid attention but didn’t join the conversation as small comments and pleasantries were exchanged before they were all taking their leave.

“Derek, a word,” the vet stopped him.

His body tensed, the fear of failure breathing down his neck as he nodded, lowering his head in a nearly imperceptive way, such that it could be taken simply as a meditative, introspective stance, which he did a lot. He said good bye to Scott, who nodded at him, and then nodded once at Stiles, eyes meeting with the deer colored ones of the teen before their hands let go of each other. No rush, no lingering touches, though Derek couldn’t keep his fingers from curling up as if to trap what little was left of the warmth of Stiles’ hand on his palm. The teens walked out of the door and Deaton’s hand was already on his shoulder blade directing him to his office.

“How are things going with Stiles?” the vet asked as soon as he closed the door.

Derek’s arms came up around himself, wrapping around his chest. He knew that way he could look imposing, but also knew the vet was far too smart to be impressed by the size of his chiseled pecs and bulging biceps.

“Fine.”

Deaton smiled that nice, open smile of his and instead of making him more comfortable, it put Derek better on edge.

“I can see that,” he noted “you are much more comfortable around each other than what you were a couple of days ago. But that’s not what I’m asking.”

Derek blinked slowly leaning a little against the counter at his back.

“How’s your trust, Derek?”

His mouth set on a thin, tight line.

“Progressing.”

“Are you aware of the way you were holding his hand?”

His eyes bulged, but he refused to blush. He wasn’t going to blush at twenty-two, almost twenty-three for holding some kid’s hand, or anyone’s hand for that matter. He controlled his blush but his nose flared, giving away his discomfort.

“You were protecting him all the time,” Deaton said slowly walking closer to the wolf, but surrounding him, not approaching him directly, just as he would with any wounded wild creature. He stopped still a good couple of feet away from the wolf, allowing him to feel secure.

The wolf had followed him through the room as he walked, his lips sealed. So different from Stiles, who would have jumped at the first silent spell available.

“He, on the other hand,” Deaton continued “shifted, not only allowing you to protect him, but also seeking you out for that protection.”

He paused for a moment to let Derek process the thought, his head bowing as he looked into his recent memory, pulling everything he remembered from holding Stiles’ hand. His fingers twitched and curled as he remembered the warmth, the pressure, the nimble fingers wrapping around his hand, their soft touch, velvety pads and their ever so light drag across his skin.

“And he also comforted you, protected you and stilled you.”

Derek looked up at the vet.

“What’s your point?”

“That Stiles is already there, where you two should be,” Deaton said, dishing out cruel truths with his pleasant tone of voice, “You are not.”

His nose flared again, is jaws popped and his mouth comprised into a thin line. Yes, no need to tell him that he was the one failing. Again.

“There’s something you need to know, Derek,” the vet stepped closer “Stiles is the spark, the beginning, the igniting force in this. This is not on your shoulders. Stiles knows to read you, to rely on you, to trust you blindly and complete you, but now you must find it in you to do the same,” he looked into his high, green orbs.“You must also rely on Stiles, flow with him, know when you have to step back and when to take the lead, let him protect you and call the shots.”

Restlessness grew inside Derek. He couldn’t tell Deaton that their main issue was actually the sex in itself. Was he going to let a virgin teen to call the shots when he had clearly told him that he didn’t enjoy fingering? When he was so worried and awkward around the whole thing, horrified when he realized that he couldn’t turn on the wolf? And him? He who couldn’t see Stiles as any other thing than another sibling? He schooled his features into a mask and nodded once. He had another day to figure things out, find a way to make his body obey, force an erection out of him and then… then somehow manage to make it as less traumatic as possible for Stiles, throw in all the tricks he had learned through years of fucking nut jobs and random people.

He was about to leave, when the vet stopped him.

“I know you can do it, Derek,” he said “think of the way you let your energy flow into him.”

He nodded and got out. His steps were hurried, as he couldn’t get fast enough out of there. It was his fault, all this work and it would fail because of him. He leaned against the wall past the door and rubbed his head for a moment. He had to do this, he couldn’t let everybody down, but above all, he couldn’t let Stiles lose his virginity in the most inadequate, awkward of situations for nothing. If anything, he owed that kid for all the trouble he was taking, for the sacrifice he was willing to make.

It took him a couple of seconds to gather himself, a couple of deep, cleansing breaths before he pushed from the wall and walked to his car. Next to his car, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk Stiles was waiting for him, arms stretched over his bent legs while he played with his fingers, threading them and making them touch at the ends, like a kid pretending they were spiders. He wasn’t sure he was glad he was there, though he did know he would never be around him with a heart as heavy as his was right then.

“I thought you would leave with Scott,” he said walking to the car and opening it.

Stiles shook his head, getting up and brushing whatever dirt could be on his butt.

“Nah,” he walked slowly to the passenger side of the car, fingers grazing the handle. His quick, smart eyes caught in the tense way the wolf held his body. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Derek replied shortly, without looking at him, fumbling with the keys more than necessary, as his fingers didn’t seem to get a good grasp at them.

Stiles came around the car fast, earning Derek’s attention, and stilling his hand with his own.

“May I drive?”

His tone was soft, but there wasn’t an actual question in it, but a plea for something else. His hand was steady around his, fingertips touching the edges of the car keys poking from his grasp. Might as well. His hand opened beneath the hand of the teen and dropped the keys in his palm, walking then around the car and getting into the passenger seat. As he closed the door, he hoped Stiles would keep his curiosity under control and not ask him anything.

He was careful igniting the car and throwing it into gear, his hand moving on the shift stick and the driving wheel in a way that made Derek think he was treating his car the way he would treat him.

“Anyway you’d like me to drive you?”

His voice was carefully soft. He wasn’t going to ask. This made Derek feel somewhat relieved, but his eyes remained distant, fixed on the unseeable horizon. 

“Home.”

Stiles nodded and kept driving before asking.

“Your place or our current place?”

“You choose, Stiles,” he rubbed his face with his hand and his words came out more strained and broken than he expected. 

Stiles licked his lips and kept his eyes on the road as he drove them back to the tiny house. Perhaps it was closer, in Stiles’ mind, perhaps he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize what they have achieved, but Derek didn’t question why he drove them there. Stiles parked his car carefully on the driveway that lead to the garage, and got out of the car silently. Derek moved out pushed by one of his many natural instincts, something that told him not to show any weakness, not to give in to the things that were nagging him on the inside. He did notice Stiles being purposefully out of his way, as silent as he could, but he couldn’t bring himself to put him at ease.

When they entered the house and the door was closed behind them, Stiles’ hand reached for his forearm stopping him. The same soft, warm and steady hand. Derek looked at him. Of course Stiles couldn’t help himself and had to ask. The thought almost made him smile.

“It’s going to work,” he said simply.

Derek wanted to reply ‘how do you know?’, but kept his tongue.

“I trust you.”

Inside his chest a tiny little flame wanted him to say ‘I trust you too, Stiles’, but that impulse wasn’t strong enough to reach his lips.

“I mean,” and there was a lopsided, amused smile tugging his mouth “you are not Scott, you’ll figure things out.”

He couldn’t help his mouth replying in kind, a corner of it stretching in a matching lopsided smile.

“You best friend has figured out a lot of things,” he countered.

“Yeah?” there was that slightly high pitched tone that normally unnerved him and now amused him “maybe because I’ve figured it out first and had been telling him!”

The smile on Stiles’ face was wide and contagious, and it pulled Derek’s mouth into a tensed, long line that could be pretty much called “a smile” if one was willing to make concessions on the meaning of it. Stiles was willing even though the same gesture was eerily similar to the menacing smiles the wolf had given him in the past when he knew he had him cornered or was about to hit him or say something snarky.

“You are not telling that to Scott, though.”

He had to laugh.

“And how will you be paying for my silence?” he walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of tap water.

“I’ll let you pop my cherry,” Stiles smirked leaning on the counter.

Derek looked at him sideways, drinking his water, then shook his head.

“You’d been asking me for it. It has to be something I really want.”

It was a tease, and it kind of surprised him how easy this was coming to him now. He hadn’t teased or joked since… well, since Laura’s disappearance, truth to be told. Peter still found it in himself to crack a joke or tease, but it had been hard for him. It was odd that he would do it now with Stiles. Then again maybe his brain was taking whatever bone thrown at him that could keep him from thinking of the failure he was in this task. He expected more tease to go by, but then Stiles straightened up looking serious.

“I could give you my limited edition Spiderman.”

Derek measured him for a moment. Was he serious? Why would he be serious? He cracked half a smile at the teen, a smirk really, and he noticed how that also came easy. Had it always been so? Could have he been doing it and not noticing until now?

“I was thinking more in the line of ten years of slavery.”

Stiles smiled wide.

“Why would you ask for something you already have? You guys keep bossing me around all the time.”

He washed the glass he just used and passed next to Stiles taking his car keys from his hand.

“Because it would be nice if you would just take the orders and not mouth back.”

With that he walked out of the tiny house.

He came back later that day with a much lighter heart. In a quite Stiles-like move, and so uncharacteristic of him, he decided to just trust the kid and ignore his worries until they would disappear by themselves. Not like his nagging mind would give it a chance, but he still decided not to worry about it for the time being. Yes, maybe being so much around Stiles was rubbing on him. The kid trusted him, that should mean something. That should mean that half the work was done, he didn’t need to convince him, to fight his barriers as he had to fight his own. Sure there was a way for him to make all of this work. People had sex all the time much less acquainted, much more awkward and for far worse reasons.

Stiles was curled up on the couch, stuffing his face with Doritos and watching some old series on the sci-fi channel.

“Isn’t there anything from your own generation you like to watch?” he commented casually letting his jacket fall carelessly on the back of the couch while he made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of tap water.

He heard the teen smirk and stifle a little laughter, sign of a joke coming.

“I’ve been rooming with this older guy and I thought it would be nice to try and understand him,” Stiles said casually “so I’m watching stuff from his youth.”

“Really?” Derek replied, enjoying the fluent way in which humor seemed to be flowing inside him. Yes, maybe this could work, “I didn’t notice you keeping Peter somewhere in here.”

He was taking a pack of beef steak from the freezer when a ball of crumpled paper hit the side of his head. He looked at Stiles, who was smirking at him. He rolled his eyes at the teen, but it was clear he was amused.

“Pick it up, I’m busy.”

Stiles pulled himself up from the couch not even bothering with turning off the TV and went to the kitchen, picking up the paper ball and trashing it. Derek was already placing the pack of beef in a bowl in the sink and pouring water on it to start thawing it.

“Can I help you with anything?”

Derek turned his head and gave him a smirk, the kind that was intended to be smug, somewhat showing he knew he was lording over the teen, had his upper hand, had won some inner joke or something, but the way it came, the sideways look, the hint of teeth in a self satisfied smile did something, flapped a little flutter somewhere in the middle of Stiles’ chest. Something small and barely there, like the light tremble of a butterfly’s papery wing.

“Eager to start your ten years of slavery?” the wolf teased.

Stiles laughed loud.

“Better keep you pleased now that you have dirt on me,” he said coming closer, one hand landing gently on the wolf’s hip, pushing him softly. “Want me to chop these?” he pointed at the veggies on the counter.

“Wash them well,” the wolf pushed them closer to him “Then you can chop the onion.”

They worked in relative silence, Stiles zoning out from time to time to stare at the TV before continuing. Derek found he was no longer bothered by his inability to keep focused, but instead liked the way he time and again did his best to get back on track and keep on task.

“You really like beef with potatoes, right?” Stiles noticed as the dinner was ready and they were taking their plates to the table.

Derek looked at him and blinked, then looking at the plate. Beef steak and potatoes with parsley.

“I guess I do,” he said putting down the plate on the table and pulling his chair out.

Stiles would have said something when his phone beeped. He fished it out, and checked the incoming message. There was that face, the small frown and Derek was already trying to guess what odd and sexually charged task they would have to complete.

“Good thing we didn’t go for soup,” he said passing Derek the phone.

‘Feed each other mouth to mouth.’

“Where does he get these ideas?” Derek sat down and took fork and knife cutting a piece of meat and handing it to Stiles.

The teen looked at him a bit lost for a moment before he got it. He took the fork and carefully held the meat between his teeth and sliding the fork out of it. Raising from his chair, he leaned over the table, lips carefully pulled back as he held the piece of meat to the wolf. Derek rose from his chair and just as carefully took the meat in his mouth. The tilt of the head, the way his eyes lowered concentrated on the piece of meat in Stiles’ mouth was frankly beautiful. His breath on Stiles’ cheek, knowing his mouth was there, close to his and yet not touching, lips probably pulled back, baring teeth almost feral and yet careful.

When the meat had been passed they sat down, Stiles casting down his face and licking his lips. That had been strangely intense. Strangely. He stuck his fork into the meat and cut himself a healthy chunk, passing then the fork to the wolf. Derek pulled his own bit to the side and took Stiles’ fork, holding the beef between his teeth and pulling it off the fork. Hands on the table, he fluently leaned over the table, neck stretching, lips pulled back, meat held between large, perfect white teeth. Stiles didn’t notice as he licked his lips again, and leaned over, stretching and tilting his head to the side a little, mouth opening as he came close and took the meat in his mouth. The first bite was too close to the edge and the rather large chunk he had cut would have fallen ripping there where he had bitten into it, so he had to pull the meat and walk his mouth a little closer to the wolf.

It came close, and though their mouths didn’t touch, he knew Derek could feel his breathing on his stubble covered cheek, just as he felt it spread from above over his cheek and the corner of his mouth. They sat and ate in silence, the stretch of which was now heavy, filled with the tension of both of them purposefully not looking at each other. They passed their forks around with speared pieces of potatoes and meat a couple of times before Stiles quite loudly pulled his chair closer to Derek.

“I want to sit while eating.”

Derek quietly pulled his own chair closer, taking the fork from Stiles and feeding him potatoes. Quite slowly they started easing into the task, though it was proving frustrating as they couldn’t eat fast enough to avoid their food getting cold. They went back looking at each other while eating, though still in silence, turning and holding food between their teeth, lips relaxing a little, feathering over the bit of food held out. They dared to bit closer to the other, eyes always cast down, focused on the mouth as if they could see where they were landing their teeth, how much room was still there between both of them.

Derek eased into it, quietly feeding and letting himself being fed, rolling inside his head the thoughts that came from the exercise, most of them related to strong family bonds. Cubs and puppies fed by their parents, older siblings taking care of the young, people taking care of each other. His fingers reached for the fork not minding if they touched the hand of the teen, and he gently took the food in his mouth and fed him with it, his eyes cast in near meditation, nose taking in the scent of food and friend and family all mixing into one large bowl of warmth and comfort. He was easing into this, his eyes shooting up to the teen here and then, settling with the feeling that this was a familiar feeling, that he felt at ease having him this close, and though maybe he couldn’t feel attracted to him, perhaps it was this familiarity what he could use, convince his body to get hard and stay hard to save Stiles. The thought was comforting.

A hand at the nape of his neck woke him up from his thoughts. Green eyes shot up and scanned the taught face of the teen leaning towards him, hand on the nape of his neck and a piece of potato between his tight lips. He searched his face but couldn’t read anything other than frustration. He leaned closer, lips parting to take the potato, when Stiles took it out with his fingers, but left his face where it was. His fingers tightened on his neck.

“This is the point of this, right?” eyebrows arching up the way it did when he was annoyed “To make out.”

Derek fixed him with his trademark ‘so you are making me suffer one of your annoying rants’ stares, but Stiles wasn’t impressed. He had stopped being impressed for a while, and Derek missed those days in the beginning when he could fix the teen with a stare and make him behave the way he wanted him to. Maybe he should add the ‘taking orders from stares’ clause into their ten year slavery agreement.

“We should just do it and get it out of the way,” the teen gesticulated with the hand still holding the piece of potato before angrily popping it into his mouth.

Without much thinking, Derek chased the piece of potato, ducking towards Stiles’ mouth and using his tongue to scoop out the food before being chewed. The moment their mouths touched Stiles froze, following then Derek with a stare of utter horror as he pulled back and chew nonchalantly, cutting already another piece of beef and handing the fork to the still stunned Stiles. He rolled his eyes.

“We have a task, and if we don’t complete it you’ll be complaining about it, even if it was your idea not to complete it, and I don’t really want to kill you this close to the ritual,” he pushed the fork closer to him “but I will if I have to.”

Stiles took the fork blushing up to the tip of his ears, and Derek couldn’t avoid thinking how he knew his blush reached the middle of his chest, not only because he could smell it, but because he had seen the red stain spread down his body. He pulled the food off the fork and offered it to Derek. The wolf leaned closer, hand to the nape of his neck gently, and took the meat purposefully making their lips touch. His heart was calm in his chest, not one heartbeat away from what it had been before Stiles had touched his nape first. Yes, maybe he could do this. The thought was indeed soothing.

When Stiles offered him his fork he took it and offered him back his food. His eyes were calm as a nervous human’s hand cradled his neck and jaw line pulling him closer and touching his lips while taking away the food. The acrid stench of nervousness wore off slowly, but as it did, Stiles’ fingers started rubbing gently on Derek’s neck, ear or jaw as he held into him to either take the food or give it, their lips pressed fully onto each other with each bite.

When the dinner was finished it was pretty much cold, but their lips were hot and moist. Without a word Derek took their plates and cutlery to the kitchen to wash them.

“So,” Stiles said avoiding looking at the wolf “are we still going to do it?”

Derek put the dishes in the sink and looked at him. He waited for the teen to look up, first sideways, licking his lips nervously and then biting on his thumbnail.

“If you want to,” he said looking away as if taking importance from the matter, though in truth trying to fight the alarms in his head. One voice told him that it shouldn’t be hard, being that he had found peace during the dinner touching the teen’s lips, but the other one, the smartest one, told him that it could be dangerous, because maybe he wouldn’t be able to fool himself with this.

He started doing the dishes, when the teen walked over, leaning against the sink and reaching over to turn the tap off. His blush and his nervousness was thick around him.

“Ok,” was all he said.

Derek nodded and dried his hands on the kitchen towel nearby.

“Ok,” he said back.

They stood there, in the kitchen not ten inches away from each other, looking at each other and then looking away and then back at each other.

“Ok,” Stiles said again, nodding, expectant.

So it was Stiles’ idea but it was up to him. Go figure. Derek took a deep breath and concentrated. Ok, he can do this. It’s just a kiss. People kiss all the time. Even when they are drunk. Not like he had ever gotten drunk – wish he had, though – but he had his fair share of being drunk kissed. He looked at Stiles and tried to wipe out of his head how much he saw him as part of his family, how he had somehow sneaked his way up to the most sacred places of his mind. So yes, he was going to do this. He would reach out his hand and take hold of his neck and pull him close and put his mouth on his, and press, and open his mouth and Stiles’ mouth and… kiss him.

And it didn’t matter how well things had been going during dinner, suddenly he was blocked, standing there, in the tiny kitchen, in front of the guy, the kid he would have to have sex with in less than twenty four hours and he realized that he couldn’t coax himself into it, that he may have been lying to himself, that those big brown eyes and cheeks peppered with moles not only didn’t provoke him, but kept him from it because he couldn’t bring himself to do this to him.

“For today, maybe?” Stiles tapped his fingers on the sink getting impatient.

Derek rolled his eyes at him and pressed his lips together with impatience.

“It’s not so easy.”

“What’s not so easy about it?”

“I’m trying not to see you as one of my sisters, that’s what’s not so easy!”

Stiles’ eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Derek sighed defeated.

“Which one?”

“What?”

“Which one?” Stiles repeated “You see me as Laura or as Cora?”

Derek’s jaw dropped, but just slightly.

“Neither! Why is that important?”

Stiles shrugged.

“Just asking.”

Derek took a deep breath and tried again, but neither his body pushed forward nor his hand reached out. After a few seconds Stiles’ eyebrows went up.

“I’m concentrating.”

Stiles frowned, somewhat offended by the thought that Derek would find it so hard to kiss him. He knew he was no Benedict Cumberbach for people to just throw themselves at him, but damned, he wasn’t so ugly either!

“Ok,” he said losing his patience “I’ll do it.”

Derek looked at him surprised. Then Stiles just pushed forward, leaned in and pecked him on the mouth and retreated. Derek’s jaw tensed and looked away.

“I could have done that,” he said after curbing some of his frustration.

“But you didn’t,” Stiles countered.

Derek pulled him by the nape of his neck and pressed their mouths together, holding them that way for a couple of seconds before letting him go. His eyes were annoyed though Stiles was clearly flustered.

“Is that what you were going for when you suggested all this?”

Stiles would have touched his mouth if he could. Fuck, Derek fucking Hale just pulled him by the neck and fucking kissed him on the mouth! He was just too stunned to actually process the fact. And just like everything Derek had done, even when fueled by good intentions, it was violent and left no place for argument. No two ways about it.

“I… ah… I was… ah… umm” he stuttered. What was what he meant to say? “well, umm… yea-… maybe?”

Derek rolled his eyes and turned the tap on and started doing the dishes.

“Clean the table,” he said without even looking at him.

As Stiles walked to the table, he looked after him and listened. His heart rate was a little up, but his scent betrayed surprise, though not a bad surprise. Just surprise. He licked his lips where the taste of Stiles and their dinner lingered. Would that be enough? He concentrated on the dishes and bit his lips as Deaton’s words came back to him. He was the problem, Stiles was the one who was already there. Stiles was the spark and he should follow his lead. Maybe that had been the problem with the exercise Stiles had suggested. Maybe he didn’t get it, maybe he was trying to force something that wasn’t there and he should take the lead of the teen and work with what was given. He should trust, he should work with what Stiles gave him, he should lean into him instead of disqualifying his effort to get somewhere.

Stiles came back from the table and put things away, placing some cutlery and glasses in the sink, moving around him quietly. Derek watched intently the dishes as his mind raced. Maybe he should try it again, turn around, pull him close to his body, let him lean in, hold him and start tasting his lips. How hard could it be to start from exploring, from curiosity? Just lick his lips, and see if that flutter in the chest of the teenager would flare up steadier, give him what he needed to get things going. Stiles was easy on the eyes, truth to be told, all things taken in consideration. His mouth was soft, his hands could be steady, his support was strong. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“It’s going to work,” he said finally, turning only slightly his head to let Stiles know he was talking to him, “right?”

A hand on his shoulder pushed him and he turned only to have his arms full of Stiles, as the teen hugged him, mouth and nose digging into his shoulder, more looking for comfort than comforting. Derek closed his arms around him and let his wet hands fist into his shirt.

“It’s going to work out,” he promised him, and made the commitment to himself, sealing it by kissing Stiles’ temples. He replied tightening his hug before slapping his shoulders a little before letting go. Derek gave him a tense little smile of sorts and turned back to finish the dishes.

There was a certain finality that night as they prepared for bed. They both slipped under the covers each on their own side, careful not to touch, just as before, but this time not because they felt awkward about touching but because the heavy concern looming over their heads. Derek looked over at teen, heart sinking as he saw him staring at the ceiling, looking for the answers he had also looked for in the cracks above their heads. His arm reached out before he thought about it and silently coaxed the teen to lean closer. Those bright brown eyes looked at him, wide with surprise and question.

“Come here.”

He scooted closer and pillowed his head on the wolf’s firm chest. He tried to accommodate his body, but everything seemed to just clash into Derek and that was embarrassing.

“Sorry,” he said trying to keep his hips away “I’m trying to-”

“It’s ok,” Derek said pulling him closer, keeping his body relaxed, just the way he did when they went skinny dipping, waiting until Stiles relaxed and didn’t care for the way his body fitted that of the wolf.

They remained silent for a moment, waiting for answers or sleep to come.

“Is there anything I can do…” Stiles asked, not looking at the wolf on whose chest his head rested “anything to make it work?”

Derek smiled to himself.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Yes,” Stiles insisted “but if there’s anything-”

“Deaton says you are the spark, so don’t worry,” Derek ran his hand once over his head to calm his thought “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

Stiles thought about that for a minute.

“Do you trust me?”

That didn’t sound well, so Derek frowned bracing for whatever he had done now.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” the teen said lifting his head and looking at the wolf, “I’m just asking you if you trust me.”

Derek caressed his head once again, his fingers playing with the teen’s spiky head. He scouted his eyes, his cheeks, his scent and found that he didn’t have an answer. Not one he could truthfully speak.

“I’m trusting you.”

There was a little smile on the lips of the teen before he put his head down on the chest of the wolf again.

“You can trust me, Derek.”

“I know.”

Things weren’t getting any better.

The sound of Derek’s strong heart under his ear started lulling him.

“But really, Derek,” he said as his eyelids got heavy and closed on their own “if there’s anything…”

“I’ll tell you.”

His eyes were closed and his body was dissolving into sleep as he nodded, cheek rubbing into the chest of the wolf before he blissfully drifted away.

At one point, as it sometimes happened, his eyes opened by their own. It was dark, so he knew hours had passed since he had closed them. It took him a moment to remember that he had fallen asleep on Derek, whose naked body was stuck with sweat to his own. He moved carefully to get some air between them and separate their glued skins, when he felt a hand on his head petting him gently.

“Sorry, I woke you up?”

“No,” the wolf’s voice was tired like that of someone who hadn’t been able to sleep.

Stiles thought a little before pulling himself away from the wolf’s body and pushing up in the bed. Derek followed his moves trying to read his intention. Stiles moved his arm coaxing it under Derek’s head.

“Come,” he said offering his own skinny chest to pillow the head of the wolf “sleep. I’ll take the weight of the world off your shoulders for tonight.”

The wolf looked at him trying to figure the meaning behind his words before he slipped lower in the bed and placing his head in the chest of the teen. Stiles let him settle before his hand came to the head of the wolf and started to gently rub his scalp.

“You do trust me,” he whispered “that scares me.”

He could feel the eyelashes of the wolf as he blinked on his chest.

“It scares me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet Another So-Called Fun Fact: when I started this fic... as in actually got down to work on it and not just a few lines thrown together to flex the Sterek in me, I made a list with all the tasks, and "Feed" wasn't among them. Originally there was another task, "slow dance" and somewhere between "massage" and "body", and "body" was supposed to be "body" and "touch" together, but as I was trying to think of it and think of it, "slow dance" just didn't fit with the whole story. The idea of taking them to the reserve was actually the scenario for "slow dance", and they were supposed to do it where nobody would look at them, dancing to the car radio. Anyway, no matter how I tried to fit it, it just came out too corny, so I had to to take it out. I split "body" and then I realized that I was missing one task! But what could mean an escalation from "touch"?
> 
> Somehow then I remembered when once at some camp, I saw two guys jokingly put a piece of bread in their mouths and then lean over the table to make them touch. It was a Christian camp (yes, I used to go to those), and the whole point was to scandalize the Guides, by making them believe they had kissed when they haven't. The show stuck with me because I found it damned HOT. So, remembering than I thought "hey! make them feed each other mouth to mouth!". Maybe not something that would look like it had escalated, but as things develop... it actually was an escalating.
> 
> It's Friday at least, I'm beaten, finished and uploaded my last homework (so far), and I'm half way through the last chapter. I need to rest before I keep working on it and ruin it for all. I'll probably be a monster to my betas, unless - and this is a last minute idea - decide to publish it unbetaread, so it's a surprised for them as well.
> 
> Well, we shall see about that. :-) Thanks for reading!


	8. Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tasks have been completed, the day of the ritual has arrived. With many doubts, unsure of that will happen, Derek and Stiles go into the ritual, ready to do their best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe both of my beta-readers an apology. You both worked hard on this, and yet for this chapter chaos has been reigning. I didn't send you the updated version, though I should have, and in the end, unable to fit what you have sent me because it's kinda late and I'm far more tired than yesterday, I'll have to publish the un-betaread version. :-( Not to mention that chapter 9 is still unfinished.
> 
> Tomorrow will be quite an interesting day...

The morning greeted him with a warm caress on his cheek. The sun was sneaking through between the curtains landing a caressing strip across his face, missing his eyes. He felt rested, peaceful, though wouldn’t say he was happy. His body was comfortable, curled and fitted around Derek just as the wolf had pretty much curled around his body tucking an arm around and under his torso, holding him to his head as if he were a pillow. His breathing was nice and even, peaceful as he still lingered in the realm of dreams. Due to their positions, he couldn’t see his face, but he could see the back of his head, his shoulders and back, and the way his tattoo slowly moved with his every breath. The same thought of the previous day assaulted his mind: Derek was just like him, just another guy thrown into all this, who felt he had to save the entire planet.

His hand came up and gently caressed his head, hoping the wolf wouldn’t wake up just yet and get upset for him maybe treating him like a dog. A well-loved dog, but a dog nonetheless. In this week, Stiles had more than ever learned how much Derek really hated dog jokes, how racist they should feel for him, so he did his best to avoid them even if some of Derek’s behavior could be very much catalogued as part of the world of White Fang.

His fingers buried into his soft hair, carding through it, petting it, playing with it, amused at how soft it felt when he ghosted his fingers over the tips of his hair. So soft while the wolf himself could be so tough at times. His whole body laid in bed, half on top of him completely relaxed and he wondered how could Derek be so comfortable with his head pressing into his boney chest. There wasn’t much muscle or fat on his frame to properly pillow the head of the wolf, so he imagined it should feel like sleeping on a grill rack. At the same time it was quite amazing for him how he didn’t feel crushed by Derek, even though he was sure he weighed about 200 pounds of hard, solid muscle.

The wolf stirred up, nuzzling a little into his chest, shoulders bunching up before he felt the feathery caress of eyelashes on his skin as green orbs opened for the day. He should have taken his hand off Derek’s head, but his fingers lingered, palm resting down as it slid from head to shoulder blade, landing there as quietly like a starship carefully settling on a new planet .He watched him come to life, wake, his breathing changing from a peacefully sleepy rhythm to actively awake. The arm around his torso slid from under him and the mountain of man rose up, turning his head to see him.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he greeted him with a smile.

Derek smirked half a smile and then sat up rubbing his head with his hands to wake up completely.

“Morning,” he said turning to him, flashing him again that half smile from over his shoulder that made his stomach flutter a tiny bit. Then again, maybe it was hunger. “How long have you been awake?” he asked pushing the covers aside to get up.

“Just a little,” Stiles said doing the same from his own side.

“Slacking in bed?”

Damned, someone was oddly in a good mood! Better not to spoil it, though.

“I had 200 pounds of wolf pinning me in place,” he said “not much I could do about that.”

He may or may not have heard a little laugher from the wolf. Derek was coming around the bed, the strip of sun sliding all around his naked glory, and grabbed some clothes from the closet.

“Beef up.”

Stiles smiled while got out of bed and picked his clothes, again checking in the general pile of… clothes on the floor, for something he could reuse.

“And compete with you and Scott?” he said “Nah, smart and hot? I would leave nothing for the two of you to grab any attention.”

This time he heard him laugh.

“Take a shower, you reek.”

“Oh, like you smell of roses, Sourwolf.”

It was Sunday. It WAS Sunday. Alone in the shower the dreadful thought came over and over striking Stiles with fear. It was Sunday. Full moon, ritual day… and the last day there. The fear that clutched his gut at the thought of what would happen that day, the “task” he would have to perform, danced around inside him with the deep sadness of going home, packing up and leaving behind a week that had become so sweet. Derek would never be the same, would have no reason to be. He won’t hear him laugh again, won’t eat with him again, won’t sleep together again, won’t have breakfast or look so much more relaxed around him again. His laugher, his hand holding his, his tongue darting out to lick him behind the ears will all vanish, forever forgotten once the wolf comes inside him. It was the end of the half smirks and those half smiles over the shoulder that made him burn inside. The end of the wolf trusting him, opening his body to Stiles’ touch, trusting him to take off his pants and let him massage his calves.

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts looming over him. It wasn’t like he was in love with Derek. Please! If he was in love with anyone – and he was – it was with Lydia Martin. Not like a crazy shrieking banshee who dated jocks was better than a brooding werewolf… but… yeah. He would concentrate on Lydia Martin because that was much safer. He had years and years of experience in loving Lydia Martin and trying to get on her radar – and he had made progress! Now she talked to him and they were friends! – he didn’t need a werewolf whom his father had arrested a couple of times, with a psycho uncle, a psycho sister and a thing for dangerous, psychotic women. Nope, he didn’t.

They got ready and then breakfast was ready too. Stiles wondered if the rule to eat at least once at the tiny house also applied to that day, but since Derek and him had already fallen into the routine of it, he simply helped with the pancakes Derek had started making while now he took a shower. He poured himself a mug of coffee and stood before the window, staring out, watching life go on normally out there while waiting.

“You haven’t started?” Derek walked in, hair still somewhat wet.

Stiles turned and tended his hand for the wolf’s chair inviting him to sit while he did so on his own place.

“Was waiting for you.”

Derek looked at him for a moment and managed to school his features and keep them still while his thoughts ran inside his head. Stiles had gotten very used to their days together. Used to live alone, he was sure that the transition back to normal wouldn’t affect him, but he wondered now if it would be the same for the teen. Or was it that the peels of sadness curling off his skin were because of him, pitying him? The scent did intensify when he noticed Stiles looking at him. His hands curled around the warm mug of coffee, senses sharp on the human munching on pancakes before him. He was scared and sad. He did his best to act as normal as possible, and it baffled Derek how he seemed to believe that putting an act was enough to fool him. Then there was a low sigh and those blue feelings were pushed back.

“Again not training today?”

“Who are you? My personal trainer?”

“Just making an observation,” he stuffed his face with pancakes.

Derek looked at him. There was his smile, stretched, deformed over his mouth filled with more food than what it should contain. He lifted his eyebrows to make his point – namely “get off that topic, it’s getting old” – and went back to breakfast.

“Or are you expecting to work out later?”

He could hear the joke in his voice, and effort to dispel the fear that had him clutched tight. The wolf looked up at him, reading everything about Stiles. He might as well try and help him dispel the fear that stuck to his frame like a wet blanket.

“Nah,” he said stuffing his face with pancake and chewing, swallowing before continuing “virgin. Not much action.”

Fear was minimized and he heard him laugh, though tendrils of fear still lingered in his voice.

“Don’t you want to impress him?” Stiles teased.

“I don’t want to ruin sex for him for the rest of his life,” the wolf teased back with one of those half smirks he was getting to shed so often now around Stiles. This cockiness, so atypical for him, was not lost on the teen, who smiled wider and was quick to keep up the light, happy mood.

“I wouldn’t be so confident,” he said feigning nonchalance for the sake of the joke “he might get you a run for your money.”

There was a conceding smile on the lips of the wolf as he looked down at his plate, cutting and forking up some pancake, swirling it a little on the maple syrup pooled on the plate.

“If he moves as he speaks, he will,” he said in a lower tone of voice, the tint of it quite close to seriousness. He didn’t look up, just shoved the pancake into his mouth, acting almost as if he would have muttered those words to himself, as if they had not much significance, but the sudden wave of heat and the scent of shame made him look up.

Stiles sat before him, ducking suddenly his face, beet red to the tip of his ears. His hands had slipped away from the table, under it, and he seemed to be hunched to minimize his exposure. The particular type of emotion that irradiated from him caught Derek’s curiosity, who studied him, the way he squirmed in his chair and raised his hand, touched his fork to keep eating but seemed so floored by shame he couldn’t even get himself to do that, sliding then his hand back again into the safety of the world under the table, to which he seemed to wish to sink. A sense of awe and tenderness spread through his chest as he realized that it was blushing and not so much shame what he was witnessing. Though he would normally let him suffer from the silly, teenager troubles that tortured him, this time he felt the wish to save him from these torments.

“Is this what it takes to make you shut up?”

Stiles made a small sound, a little, strangled laughter, easing up from the depths of his blushing, finally able to straighten up his body and eat, though he would not chance to show his face to Derek, and let him know how much that reference to his unknown, maybe non existing sexual capabilities had affected him.

“You did get me there,” Stiles conceded “I didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

Derek felt both smug at being acquainted by Stiles as his superior in something – maybe a remaining Alpha instinct that refused to die along with the red glow that once graced his eyes – and relieved for succeeding in helping the teen out of the tough spot. He gave him a smile – one of his more and more frequent smiles – when he tentatively raised his eyes to look at him, and let it morph into a grin, as he tried to get to the earlier mood.

“I get you and I’ll get you, Period.”

Stiles smiled wide and then wiggled his eyebrows. His face was still red, but the intensity of his troubled state had diminished significantly. Feeling safe – oddly, strangely, incomprehensibly “safe” – Derek lowered his head shaking it lightly at Stiles’ reaction.

They finished breakfast quietly, the silence a soothing sort of blessing instead of the heavy weight it should have been by then. Derek stood up reaching for Stiles’ empty plate and putting it on top of his to take it to the sink.

“Leave it,” Stiles stood up wiping his mouth with a paper napkin and reaching out to the arm of the wolf touching him lightly and leaving his fingers on his forearm, pushing it gently towards the table “I’ll do the dishes.”

Derek let him, following his lead and letting the plates on the table.

“Ok,” he said reaching out to tap lightly on Stiles’ shoulder as a way of politely thank him for taking over the chore.

The day progressed silently, with Derek without anything to say, and Stiles more and more consumed with his troubling thoughts, which were made evident by his sustained silence, the calmness of his movements and the blue, anxious scent floating around his skin. He tried to occupy himself with his laptop, with his phone, with his books, but nothing would settle the trouble piling inside him. If he was the spark, like Deaton had said, how would it flame up in that state? How should Derek follow his lead when he was so troubled and so scared? Derek himself was in no shape, hammering in his brain constantly what he had always said to himself, that he wasn’t enough, that he wasn’t hitting the measure, but he did what he did every single time, tightening his jaws and keep on doing it, faking it until he would make it or someone took his place.

“Come on,” he stood from the couch were he had been sitting, “let’s go out.”

Stiles didn’t question him as he followed his lead, out of the door and into the Camaro. His trust was absolute. How did it get there? What had Derek done to earn it? They went to a drive-through, picked up some lunch and then went on towards the reserve. Derek parked at the same spot they have on Friday, and walked down the same path.

“This place looks so much better with proper daylight,” Stiles commented looking around, stretching and twisting his neck around as if to see everything and, of course, tripping on a poking out root. He didn’t fall – as he normally did – but then gladly noticed how Derek was there, watchful and grabbing him by the arm. He straightened dusting his pants automatically, rubbing his hands down the denim and smiling sheepishly.

“Thanks.”

“Just watch your step,” Derek said, but with no heat in his words.

Stiles kept looking around still, trying not to trip (though he did stumble a couple of times, not his fault the forest floor isn’t even, not all roots and stones nicely stuck under the surface) until they’ve got to the same pond where they skinny dipped.

“Are we skinny dipping again?”

Derek looked at him.

“Do you want to skinny dip again?”

“Weather is much better,” he pointed out.

Derek seemed to ponder on the idea, nodding for himself and then putting down the food and taking off his jacket and his shoes. Stiles took that as a yes and started taking off his shoes, looking up at the sun climbing up the sky and trying to calculate how long they had before it would get cold, when suddenly he was tackled, lifted from the ground and carried towards the pond.

“Hey!!!!”

Derek laughed a little as he ran with him throwing him into the water with a big splash and following him, also fully clothed, to start a water battle. Stiles barely made it up for air when the wolf was again all over him, pushing him down. Fully clothed as they were, he felt more confident in their match as he spared no strength and no twist to try and overcome the wolf, wrapping his long legs around his waist and trying to shift them, roll the wolf’s body to get him under himself and under the water. They played like they were best friends, brothers even, and Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek was holding back his supernatural strength back or not, but he would like to think it was a pretty tight battle. They pushed and battled each other until Stiles was pretty much out of breath.

“You could have warned me, you know,” he said moving arms and legs slowly to stay afloat.

“That wasn’t the point,” Derek replied splashing him across the face, to which Stiles replied in kind, snowballing into a smaller, shorter version of their early game.

They swam a little before going back to the shore, where they stripped off their wet clothes and lay them out to dry while they themselves also sat down to dry in the sun. Stiles stared into the pond, lost in thought, but not troubled. He did some sounds at the back of his throat as if to ask something but never really getting to do it, until he finally blurted it out.

“Can you see in the dark?”

Derek blinked and looked at him. Stiles turned expecting the answer, but at his confused expression elaborated.

“Like, you know, can you see where I can’t see? Can you see the same level of detail than with daylight?”

Derek pondered the question for a moment. He understood what Stiles was asking and what he wanted to know, but he had no real way to explain to him what he was after.

“I see better during the day, but I don’t see much less at night,” he said “I don’t need flashlights as much as you do.”

Stiles nodded processing the answer and trying to tackle his question from another angle. These were question he really wanted to make to Scott, who would know the difference between wolf and human senses, but Scott had never been able to give him a satisfactory reply, instead he ended all conversations with the kind of replies parents gave to kids when they felt the children wouldn’t be able to understand.

“What is like,” Derek suddenly interrupted his thoughts, “to be like you?”

Stiles straightened his spine and blinked looking at the wolf. His face was open. Green orbs searching his face with curiosity. Suddenly, being at the other end of the question, he understood the impossibility of being capable to answer it. He was born into this.

“You mean being human or being me?”

“Human,” Derek clarified “Isn’t it… confined?”

Stiles blinked again and took a moment to consider. Yes, for someone with supernatural senses, able to hear mice at miles, smell everything and see in the dark, his senses and the way he carried his life should seem limited.

“I have not known anything else,” he said softly “but when I think of how troubled Scott and Jackson seemed when they first experienced wolf senses, I thought it was wonderful I wasn’t bombarded with so much information. I can hear enough, see enough and smell enough not to drive myself crazy.”

“You can’t tell when people lie as easily as we can, or how others feel by their scent,” Derek countered.

Stiles nodded.

“Yes, but that’s what trust is for,” he said, then looked away towards the pond “besides what people feel at one moment can be reigned, and not smelling it gives people the chance to keep them in check and often act against it.”

Derek waited for him to elaborate, which Stiles did after a moment.

“Like being able to hold back some of my crush for Lydia so she never actually gets to know the pathetic extent of my feelings for her, or worse even, realize she knows an pities me for it, or push back fear and not let it paralyze me when I have to act,” he said “what good would have done to know I was afraid when I would yet act against that feeling?”

Derek looked away pondering the answer. He had noticed that before, and yes, maybe that was the root of his distrust of Stiles, how he realized the fierce strength of the teen’s emotions as they happened even when he acted against them. How he fooled himself hiding his feelings for Lydia when she seemed to be aware of them, yet choose to ignore them despite the hurt it dealt upon him.

“Pain,” he continued “it’s there longer. We can’t afford to get hurt because the pain and the weakness of it stays longer, but I do believe they make us stronger little by little.”

“But don’t you feel weaker, more vulnerable all together?”

“I never thought of that until I met you werewolves,” Stiles smiled. Derek smiled back a little, as if sharing a private joke. “I know I’m much weaker and slower and limited in my senses than you are, but I wouldn’t change that for anything,” he said in all honesty “I don’t want to hear people’s hearts, I want to trust. And I don’t want to be tied to the moon, have supernatural powers and be chased by them. I like my life as it is, even after knowing how there are others much powerful than me,” he said looking into the distance. “I couldn’t live like you, like Scott. I like being able to find peace, to ignore the world, get lost in my own head, respecting the inner privacy of others by simply looking away or plugging in my earphones. Sometimes you need to let others fool you, lie to you and believe their lies for their own good.”

There was a long pause before Stiles talked again.

“What’s… like?”

Nervousness was raising thick from him now, and Derek needed nothing else to guess what he was asking about. In the past week the subject had been danced around, talked about pretty much openly and by then all answers that could have been given had been given, all there were, and yet they weren’t enough.

“You mean sex?”

Stiles nodded.

“It’s great,” he said simply “that’s why everybody wants to do it.”

Stiles smiled to himself. He couldn’t shake off the building anxiety now, and was now aware that Derek would pick up on that, but yet he tried to reign on the feeling. He played forcefully with his fingers, twisting them and threading them, pulling them as if he would like to take off some deep rooted discomfort before he spoke again.

“Things will probably change from today on,” he said without looking at the wolf. Derek straightened and leaned forward, with his arms folded over his bent knees “but before things change and everything becomes awkward,” Stiles continued “I wanted to tell you that I like you.”

Derek froze for a moment, and slowly looked at Stiles, who was calmly looking at him.

“You are a nice guy,” he grabbed a pebble from close by and threw it towards the pond “I’ve got to see that this week, and I’ve got to like you.”

Derek rolled his words inside his head. Things were bound to change after the ritual, change in a different way than the way they started to change a week ago. They sat in silence for a while until Derek half turned to him, not really looking at him, as if still thinking over his words.

“Thank you,” he said “that’s the nicest thing anyone has told me in a while.”

Stiles smiled mostly to himself and nodded.

“You told me this now because you may change your mind later about it?” the wolf asked casually.

“Because I want you to know before things get awkward between us.”

Derek nodded again to himself.

“Don’t you think they are awkward now?”

Stiles turned to look at him, studying the wolf until the wolf turned also to look at him.

“Do you think things are awkward now?”

“Everything is awkward.”

Stiles bit his lips.

They ate and small chatted, took another swim in the pond and skipped pebbles, uncaring about their nakedness and not minding it a bit until Stiles’ phone beeped. Both of them froze, and then Derek’s phone beeped too. They each took their phones and checked the message knowing very well the content of it in advance.

“It’s time,” Stiles’ voice cracked with anxiety.

His hands shook as he reached for his clothes and slowly started pulling them on. Without thinking much about it, Derek pulled him into his arms and held him hard, regardless of his own nakedness and Stiles’ half naked state.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine,” he whispered into the teen’s ear. Stiles nodded and took the embrace burying his face into the muscular shoulder of the wolf. Derek dipped his head and instinctively licked him behind the ear, to which Stiles leaned his head closer. “I’ll be there,” he said trying to comfort him “nothing bad will happen.”

Stiles nodded again and tightened his arms around the wolf.

“It’s going to work, right?”

“Yes,” Derek said, even though he himself wasn’t sure about that, grateful that Stiles couldn’t detect his lies and doubts “it’s going to work.”

They drove to a location at the other end of the reserve where what seemed like a dome structure, rather flat and not sticking much from the ground. There rose a place that looked much in ruins, made out of stone and wood. However, as they entered through the low door at the side, they realized it was a structure built downwards into the earth.

“Welcome to the chapel of the moon,” Deaton greeted them as suddenly Scott joined them running down the stairs. They all nodded at the vet. “You three need to prepare for the ritual,” he said in that sort of teacher tone that admitted no discussion “You’ll first must cleanse, so take a bath, prepare yourselves. You will do this separately. This chapel holds rooms for that occasion. After the bath you will be assisted by someone from your friends who has been appointed for that purpose. You will wear ritual clothes. When you are ready you will enter the ritual room where Stiles will lay on the altar and both Scott and Derek will first link their energy with Stiles as you practiced yesterday.” Then he turned to Derek “You must make sure to awake every part of him, establish the connection with his whole body so the most of the energy you can give will be caught.”

Derek nodded. Deaton turned to Scott.

“You will concentrate on the shoulders.”

Scott nodded.

“I can’t be in the ritual room, nor anyone except from those taking part of it. You might feel strange inside it because it has been charged. Your assistants have also been warned against entering it even if just for a second, even if the ritual itself haven’t started, which is why you need to remember all of this now, understood?”

The three of them nodded. Deaton nodded back.

“In the ritual room you’ll find the altar and around it a magical circle,” he made sure to look at the three of them directly in the eyes before continuing. “You can only step into it when the three of you are together and must do it at the same time, otherwise the spell will be broken.” He waited for them to nod before continuing “Once in the circle none of you can leave it under any circumstance until the ritual has been completed and the energy has been completely transferred.”

Deaton waited for them to nod once more and then directed them to different parts of the maze-like chapel (for a chapel it was actually quite large) into tiny, carved little rooms. Stiles entered his designated room, walking into a small stone bathroom with a shower. There wasn’t much around, and it was small, though it didn’t seem so to him, who had grown used to the tiny house’s bathroom. Standing alone on the sink was a tube of lube quite hard to miss. He pressed his lips hard together. This was it.

He took off his clothes and took the tube with him as he stepped into the bathroom. He was past the point where he would try to rationally convince himself that this was good, that it was ok, and instead tried to simplify his thoughts as much as possible. Take off his clothes, get into the shower, shower, prepare his ass, walk into the other room. It had to be that simple. Ignore his heart trying to make a run out of his body. Try not to die in the process. Same as usual.

He washed himself thoroughly, apprehensive a little as he washed behind his ears, fingers sliding where Derek had licked him, anxious as if he were washing off a brand that would have otherwise protected him from harm. He stalled the moment to prepare his body for what was to happen as much as he could. His heart raced this time as he uncapped the lube and poured some on his fingers. This was no longer trying to get his body to like it, this was… happening. He turned the shower off and reached behind himself, pressing his face to the wall as if the wall could swallow him at one point and hide him from the whole thing. His body was tight, unwilling. It took him a lot of trying and probing, lube sliding down his legs, fingers becoming cold and clammy as he tried over and over before a finger finally slipped in. It was still uncomfortable, embarrassing, but he knew better than to not do it. He needed to prepare his body, lube and open his ass. Things were awkward – Derek had said so himself – so expecting the wolf to take care of his body would only add heaps on it and maybe make the whole thing far more unbearable than it needed to be. Besides, the lube was left there for him for a reason.

He poured some more lube onto his fingers and reached for his ass again, tucking the slick, cold substance into his channel, forcing a second finger and hoping for the best. He didn’t even realize as he reached up with his other hand, scratching behind his ear where Derek had licked him while he willed his body to relax. A moment of break came then to him, as his fingers stroke that patch behind his ear and he remembered Derek, the Derek he had been living with, the Derek he had met this past days, the Derek that was just like him. He could do this, he had to do this. He shouldn’t let the wolf carry so much weight on his shoulders.

“Come on Stiles,” he told himself “you can do this.”

His body straightened, detached from the wall and he moved his fingers into his body, ignoring the discomfort, the slight pain that slowly ebbed away, working his way inside, pushing the lube, easing things for the ritual. He found it was easier to do this by thinking he was trying to help Derek, take obstacles out of the way, rather than thinking of what he was really doing: preparing his ass to take a cock in.

Nearly half the lube was used, most of it had slid out of his body and down his legs, which he then washed off. His body felt strange and his ass particularly… well, he was rather aware of it. Still naked, holding his clothes before his parts, he opened the second door of the bathroom and walked into yet another room lit with candles. To his surprise, in the middle of it was Isaac waiting for him. Well, at least it wasn’t Lydia or Kira… or Peter.

“Hi,” he greeted him as he walked it.

Isaac turned to greet him, but his eyes slid first slowly down his frame, shiny light orbs then bumping with his and blinking as if caught doing something embarrassing.

“Hi.”

Stiles walked in closing the door behind himself.

“You are here to…”

“Assist you, yes,” Isaac came closer, but then waited until Stiles came all the way to where he was. His eyes roamed again Stiles’ body, to which Stiles hunched, assuming the young wolf was looking down on his skinny, pale frame.

“Do-” Isaac stuttered a bit as he tried to overcome the awkwardness of the situation “do you need me to help- help you… umm… prepare yourself?”

Stiles frowned.

“Prepare m-”… and then he got it, eyes widening and blushing deep red. “N- no,” he said looking away, “I already took care of that.”

Isaac nodded, and turned to a table and took some jar. He took the lid off liberating a soft pine scent from it. He dipped his fingers in it and they came out coated with some sort of soft wax.

“I need to…” he made a general circular gesture about Stiles body “work this into…”

“Yes, sure,” Stiles hurried turning around and putting his clothes down on a bench close by.

He tried not to think about the whole thing, him standing naked before Isaac, who was rubbing some probably druid Nemethon wax into his body and making him smell like a Christmas tree. His hands started at his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his shoulder blades, but as they lowered to his butt, the touch hard and deep, it was harder and harder to ignore his situation.

“What does it do?” he asked trying to take his head off the fact that Isaac’s hands were rubbing his ass cheeks, fingers dipping into the cleft, tips touching his hot, slick, open ass.

“Deaton just said,” Isaac’s voice cracked as if he had never used it in his life “to rub it well into every inch of your skin.”

Stiles nodded, tensing as Isaac’s hands dipped between his legs rubbing hard his perineum and all the way to where his balls started. He made a strangled sound in surprise, especially as he soon found out that the wax left a tingly sensation on his skin.

“Sorry,” Isaac said truly apologetically.

“It’s okay,” Stiles turned to look at the wolf currently kneeling behind him and smiled at him. Isaac smiled back.

His hands went down his thighs, his knees and calves to his ankles and his feet. Then he stood up and came around Stiles, smiling his lost puppy smile while he took more wax and distributed it in his hands before repeating the process in the front. Neck, shoulders, chest…

“So, it’s only me getting the body treatment, or are the others too?” Stiles tried again to break the awkward. Good thing was that Isaac was much more up to it than Derek usually was.

“You and Derek are,” he said as his hands slid to his tummy “I don’t know about Scott.”

His hands were going lower and lower.

“Who’s assisting them?” Stiles tried to detach from the fact that Isaac’s hands were so close to his junk, rubbing tingly Christmas wax into his skin and all of it making funny things to his bits.

“Peter is assisting Derek and Deaton assisting Scott.”

Stiles looked up at Isaac instinctively, all awkwardness going up to smoke.

“Peter is doing THIS to Derek?”

Isaac lifted his shoulders looking clueless.

“Probably.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he had held back.

“I’m really so lucky…”

Isaac laughed, his hands moving from Stiles’ groin to his hips and then down his thighs, finishing his job. He moved to the table again wiping his hands in a rag before taking some sort of white, nearly transparent robe or tunic with him. He gathered it in his hands and signaled to Stiles to hold his arms out then duck his head as the thing was put on him.

“Well,” Stiles said looking at the pretty much see through tunic now on him “this doesn’t cover me up much.”

Isaac’s eyes roamed again on his frame.

“That’s all you’ll wear,” he informed him.

Right, because that would really make all things better.

“Well,” he said “I’m walking in there pretty much naked, to get naked, in front of two guys who have seen me naked,” he twisted his mouth the way he did when he was displeased “not like there’s anything to hide.”

“Not like you should,” Isaac said softly.

Stiles looked at him and the pup smiled.

“You are hot, Stiles,” he said “Derek is lucky he can call this,” he lifted a hand to signal Stiles’ body “duty.”

Stiles smiled and nodded taking the flattery with silent gratitude as no right or wrong words came to help him out.

“I’ll… go then,” he said signaling the second door of the room.

Isaac nodded and watched him leave.

“Stiles?” he stopped him before he reached the door.

Stiles turned and looked at him.

“When this is over…” he said looking at the floor for a moment “if it doesn’t take your desire from… you know…” he smiled and Stiles smiled back at him understanding what he meant “we could maybe… go out sometime?”

His eyes widened, but then the full blow of the flattery hit him and he blushed pleased. He had never felt like that before, had never had his “hot chick” moment, and this, happening right then, boosted his confidence. He felt himself stand taller, as he nodded at Isaac.

“Yeah, we should do that,” he nodded, flattery growing as Isaac smiled at him.

He reached for the doorknob and entered a dark hall lit only with some candles with a door at the end. This was it. He looked behind him at the door he just closed and thought of Isaac for a moment, a smile coming to his lips. Actually, he had never thought of going out with a werewolf – he at least liked to think he had that much sense of preservation – but now he was about to sleep with a werewolf and apparently agreed to go out with another. When had his life crashed and landed on its head?

The door creaked as he pushed it open. Derek and Scott were already there dressed in what looked like just a length of the same see through fabric of his tunic wrapped around their hips like a towel that reached their knees, secured somehow in the front gathering enough cloth to cover them. The light around the room was dimmed down, though the very center of it, where a block like altar was, seemed quite well illuminated. Not even darkness to hide his shame. A circle was drawn around with what looked like candles and maybe some leaves or herbs, and maybe even one of those odd powders Deaton was so fond of. Derek and Scott stood outside the circle in silent, unwilling to look at each other, so as Stiles entered the both looked at him in relief as if his sole presence would lift up the awkward tension.

The presence of his best friend made it much easier for him, as he smiled at the uneven jawed wolf the way he had always done it since they’ve met. He walked to them, minding less his revealing clothes.

“Guess you can’t start the party without me,” he joked.

Scott laughed and punched him playfully on the shoulder, but it was Derek’s hand on the small of his back, gently leading him to the altar what filled him suddenly with a sense of safety. He turned to the former alpha and smiled at him a smile that tried to convey what they have been insisting time and again: all will be alright. Derek’s lips stretched in the exact same hopeful smile insisting on the same. It hit him again how he had been drifting apart from his best friend – though it was undeniable that they loved each other deeply – and had been finding a stronger support in the brooding wolf with a thing for psychos. Scott grabbed his forearm to cross the circle, but it was Derek’s hand still on the small of his back and his own hand reaching for the hip of the former alpha what kept him steady, in the right rhythm to cross it.

It was Derek again who helped him up the altar though he needed no help sitting up on the uncomfortable, though oddly warmed up stone altar, fingertips always on his body, as if making sure he was ok, both legs on the altar, head placed carefully on it. They took their places – Scott at his head, Derek at his feet – and gently placed their hands on him. They concentrated and Stiles could feel the buzz as they searched the energy currents under his skin and started making the connections, Derek’s much more stable, Scott’s a little pulling. His best friend had reached under his tunic, palms directly on his skin making them a little tingly. He remained there as Derek started slowly moving up his legs, from feet to shins, to knees, to thighs awakening every inch of his skin with tendrils of energy that made him somehow more sensitive to everything. The hands of the former alpha were gentle on him, though thorough.

Scott looked away, but Stiles couldn’t as Derek reached under his tunic and carefully touched him, hands gentle on his dick and balls awakening his flesh to the tingle of energy before they slid slowly around, awakening his loin lines, his hips and then his buttocks, down and around, between them hand pressing carefully to his recently prepared flesh. Derek had kept his eyes cast down, his face calm, as if not making a big deal out of touching Stiles. As he moved higher and higher on the body of the teen, his transparent robe gathered up on his thick, muscular arms. Stiles was getting more and more exposed, his tingly body out there as two guys were touching him, he passively letting them. The arm closest to Derek moved, fingers reaching out and touching his hip. The wolf looked up at him and as Stiles tried out a small smile that sought that reassurance, that friendly confidence that had started to crystallize among them, he returned that small smile, his hands warm on his tummy, a thumb rubbing gently just for a moment. Stiles would have loved to ask him to please lean over and lick him behind his ears again, just to make sure, just to have that little charm back on his skin that would protect him from everything.

Derek’s eyes didn’t stay long on him as he went back to complete his task, but Stiles’ fingers kept reaching out, maybe not pressed but keeping that constant touch with Derek’s body, as if to make sure safety was there, at his fingertips for him to grab into it and run for his life.

The wolf did his best to shield Stiles’ body as he moved his hands up to his chest until his fingertips touched Scott’s and a kind of spark, much like a static induced spark, almost made them jump. He quickly checked Stiles’ face and then eyed Scott.

“Sorry,” the true alpha said.

Derek frowned looking away, directing all his attention to pulling back down Stiles’ gown and cover him before his hands reached under his sleeves to continue the process down his shoulders to his arms.

“If this works,” he said slowly to Scott, “it will burn.”

Scott shook his head the way he did when he was told something that made no sense to him.

“How do you-?”

“Whatever you feel, whatever you do,” Derek interrupted him in his usual Derek way “you can’t let go of him,” his eyes rose with quite a serious dead glare on them aimed at the young alpha “and you can’t claw him.”

Scott eyed him offended. His hands tightened on Stiles’ shoulders.

“Stiles is my best friend, my brother,” he reminded the former alpha, feeling suddenly quite territorial “I would never do a thing to hurt him.”

Not another word left Derek, but the fierceness of his stare said all that needed to be said. Stiles lifted one of his hands and touched up to Derek’s elbow. His hands were still on Stiles’ elbows linking there, pressing perhaps a little hard, a little territorial as he also focused on glaring at Scott, but as Stiles’ fingers touched his elbow the pressure softened as did his face, looking down at the teen laying on the stone altar. He smiled at him again the same reassuring smile they were doing now almost every time their eyes met as if by previous agreement, and his hands slid slowly down the forearms, pressing them down again, fingers nearly caressing just as his palms picked up the energy links and woke his skin. His eyes didn’t leave Stiles as his hands reached those of the human holding them in his protective, reassuring way as the link in them was set.

Derek held his hands curled in his palms for a moment, and the reassuring smile fractured letting Stiles see the minute anxiety that took the wolf. This was it. His fingers moved against the palms of Derek and instinctively bit the little dipping at the center of his upper lip. This was it. Derek looked again at Scott, with no heat this time, and the young alpha nodded, discomfort visible as he tightened his hands on Stiles’ shoulders as if to wish him luck before removing them and taking seat at the bottom of the altar, not leaving the circle and wishing he could disconnect his ears and not to hear what was about to happen.

Stiles twisted and stretched his neck trying to see Scott, and when he realized how close he was, he looked at Derek with a look of panic and confusion written all over his face.

“Neither of us can leave the circle, remember?” he explained.

Stiles nodded, and looked around a little, feeling his cheeks tighten with embarrassment.

“It’s more embarrassing than I actually expected it to be,” he said chancing a glance at the wolf.

Derek’s face wasn’t one mask of confidence, cracked as it was, his own fears and insecurities showing through, but yet he reached out to touch Stiles’ face, his so practiced smile cracking and coming a little too much on the side of sad than it should. Stiles reached for the hand drawing a soft caress down his cheek and gave it a little squeeze, nodding once. It was going to be ok, they had promised each other that. Somehow, like two lost children in the woods, they would find their way out.

Derek’s eyes flickered as he tried to find in his mind his tasks, what he should be doing, pressing his lips and tightening his hands into fists before he reached for the hem of Stiles’ tunic and started pulling it up to get it off the teen. Stiles tried to think how this wasn’t like lying under the CAT scan, how this wasn’t like being in a hospital where he should fear every movement and every result, and yet he felt that way. Small sounds of discomfort escaped him as he lifted his hips and then sat up a little to allow Derek to take off the thin layer of fabric leaving him effectively naked. It didn’t matter how much he had gotten used to be naked around the wolf, his hands came instinctively up to protect, to cover his bits as soon as he felt now completely exposed. Derek busied himself finding a place at the foot of the altar to leave Stiles’ clothes and then actually turned around while taking off the length of fabric that had been wrapped around his naked frame. Stiles didn’t want to look at him, but the part of him that had learned to expect protection from him made him turn his eyes at him, as if to wish he wouldn’t vanish and leave him there alone. Thus he saw his big shoulders shake, his bare body as he stole a few seconds – all those he could – balling up the fabric before letting it fall over Stiles’ tunic, and take a deep breath, look up at the vaulted ceiling before turning around.

He caught Stiles looking at him, but as he tried to do again that smile they had developed, they had perfected that day, it wouldn’t work, turning into a nervous grimace. Stiles would have loved to smile, make something, anything to be the alleged spark he was supposed to be, but he was just as paralyzed by fear. They looked at each other for a moment before Derek let go of the air he didn’t know he was holding, and carefully climbed on the altar. It was too narrow to hold them both one next to the other, and as Derek balanced himself hands plated at either sides of Stiles’ head, one knee next to his thigh, and the other still hovering above, trying to find a place, he realized that the only way they would fit in there would be one on top of the other. An unhelpful voice in his head – probably developed as a side effect of too much time spent with Stiles – remarked how Deaton wasn’t kidding when he said they wouldn’t have much room for maneuver. He would definitively have more space balancing on Scott’s bike. There was no way, but he would have to partially lay on Stiles – at least.

Watching him trying to decide how to position himself, Stiles raised on his elbows, ready to move.

“I can make some room…”

“No need,” Derek stopped him quickly touching his hip to stop him “you’d be too close to the edge.”

Stiles stayed put laying down again. He tried a small laugher to cover his discomfort.

“And here we thought the bed was small.”

Derek laughed a little, more to help dispel the discomfort than because he thought the joke was funny. He twisted his body again with a cat-like agility and carefully lowered his body on top of Stiles’ hip, one of his legs between the teen’s thighs. In this position both of them were forced to be aware of each other’s groin; cocks, balls and pubes pressed to their thighs or hips. He slowly fitted his body over and next to Stiles, and then chanced a look, and gave up on trying to smile, instead stretched his mouth into a smirk that tried to apologize for anything that might make Stiles feel less than pleasant. He slowly rose the arm he wasn’t using to hold up himself, and floated it over Stiles’ body, ready to start the ritual, trying to decide where would be safe to place it.

“Would you-” Stiles voice broke suddenly, stopping Derek’s hand effectively and earning his undivided attention. He blushed, swallowing and pressing his lips together before continuing with a grimace that narrowed his eyes as a clear sign if his insecurity “would you… kiss me?” he asked while his head tipped to the side a little as if to dodge some attack he expected “So I can pretend….”

Derek’s mouth stretched into a feeble smile. He seemed relieved, as if a stone would have lifted from his heart at being directed in his actions instead of trying to find out how should he proceed. His hand reached for Stiles’ face and held it. He nodded while his thumb drew a tender caress on his jaw. Stiles smiled back nervously, his eyes jumping from Derek’s eyes to his mouth. Derek dipped towards Stiles’ mouth. He decided he would peck him, hold that peck and do anything in his power to make the teen feel better, give him anything he asked for. He would wait for his lead, would do trust if he was asked to, would release control and place it in the hands of the hyperactive human as Deaton told him. He would lower his head and obey, let the spark be his alpha and dictate his actions. His hand slid further down Stiles’ neck towards his nape and cradled his head, lifting it from the altar and pulling him towards his face.

“Anything,” he whispered almost touching his lips “anything you want.”

His lips descended with a gentle pressure on Stiles’ mouth, his hand tightening on the back of the teen’s head. It was a peck, just like the one he gave him the previous day at the kitchen, but then Stiles’ mouth moved underneath his, opening and pressing the silky wet side of them against his and giving him a gentle suck. From his core rose a flicker, a flame of arousal that jumped from Stiles to Derek catching on his body and spreading through him like wildfire. His body pressed into the teen’s, his mouth opened and ate him, sucked him, took him in. His hand rubbed his neck, massaged him while his hips pressed closer to Stiles’ naked body, feeling himself harden as the kiss deepened. Stiles’ cock jumped as the former alpha reacted to his kiss, dared to push his tongue into the mouth of the wolf, hands leaving the stone altar and placed them on the arms and torso of the wolf, wherever they would reach, first tentatively, but as his mouth got bolder, as Derek’s mouth invited him to go further, so his fingers grabbed harder into the tight skin of the wolf. His hips rose up from the altar, rolling as Derek rolled against him, his thighs trapping one of his legs, his own free leg trying to climb his side, humping it like that would save his mortal soul from damnation.

Their mouths soon rubbed together, tongues reaching out, teeth putting on lips, lips wrapping and sucking on whatever they could trap. Arousal climbed, escalating inside Stiles and by this simple phenomenon pushing Derek’s off the cliff. His mind was aflame, exhilarated, amazed at how Deaton was right, how Stiles did was the spark, how his arousal got him going, spreading through him, intoxicating him. His long fingered hands touching his skin acted like a torch applied to a pool of fuel.

He ripped his mouth away from Stiles and made his best to look at him, eyes heavily hooded, hand sliding forward, thumb caressing his jaw harder. Stiles panted beneath him, darkened brown eyes searching his features, focusing on his mouth as if trying to convince them directly to come back and kiss him senseless.

“Tell me you want this,” Derek whispered.

Stiles looked at him, gaze warmed almost to the point of blindness by pleasure, yet tried to focus to understand why would the wolf ask him that. He was hard like a rock, pressed against Derek’s thigh, and he had actively participated in the kiss. And he agreed a week ago to do this. What else did he want?

“Tell me,” Derek insisted without kissing him again, though by the way his eyes jumped to Stiles blood filled lips, he wanted to.

“…it’s not like I can back off now,” he said in a low, raspy voice heavy with wanton, looking the wolf in the eyes.

Derek pulled back a little, his hand dropping from this jaw and petted gently his head.

“Yes you can,” he said.

Stiles’ eyes widened.

“If you don’t want it, Scott and I can still find another way.”

Stiles shook his head

“There’s no other way,” Stiles reminded him, trying to wrap his pleasure fogged mind around the fact that Derek was on top of him, naked and arguing about this.

“Then the world can go to hell,” the wolf said “but I won’t sacrifice you, I won’t rape you for the greater good.”

Brown eyes widened and then melted, cheeks blushing, lips filling with blood and becoming ripe for kissing. Stiles pushed up and took Derek’s mouth in his. The wolf didn’t deny him the kiss.

“Yes…” Stiles gasped, “I want this…” he licked into his mouth, relishing in the feeling of Derek’s mouth opening to his, how after saying the words he wanted to hear he held him tighter, sink in him deeper, his hips rolled harder and his hard cock bore more insistent against his flesh. “I want this…”

His body acted by its own, as if knowing the script for this by heart. His legs bent a little to give him leverage as he pushed his hips up and humped the thigh keeping him in place. His mouth opened beneath Derek’s and a broken moan of pleasure fell from his lips, though it didn’t go far, as the wolf was ready to suck it up. His hand slid to Stiles’ butt and helped him press to his body as he did his share of humping. Emboldened by the arm scooping him up, Stiles bared his teeth against Derek’s mouth unconsciously as he pushed harder into the body above his. The wolf was surprised by the gesture, unable to decide whether the teen had done that on purpose, had maybe researched and decided to make a feral gesture to try and show some sort of dominance or simply show that he wasn’t going to give in so easily; or maybe it was an accidental, an entirely instinctive move. Be it as it may, the long, hard rub down his lower belly made a fabulous job at convincing him to worry about Stiles’ entirely wolf-gestures at some other time. He bared his teeth as well and pushed him down into the altar with the force of his humping. Stiles moaned into his mouth and fought him, matched his movements, matching and quickly leading the intensity of his desire.

“Your teeth,” he murmured against the wolf’s mouth.

“What’s wrong with them?” Derek asked softly sucking at small portions of his lips, taking a moment to quickly lick over his pearly white sand check if he had wolfed them out without realizing. Something that, of course, would never happen. Never. (It was just a measure of precaution.)

“I want your wolf teeth…” Stiles chased his mouth boldly licking between the lips and rubbing the gums and teeth with his tongue to enforce his request.

“You could get hurt.”

He shook his head slowly unwilling to detach his mouth from Derek’s lips.

“No I won’t.”

“Stiles…” Derek tried to talk reason within the capacity he had to talk reason, but Stiles’ hands quickly reached to his back and hips, holding into them, securing his body and rubbing up harder.

“Please Derek… just a little… just a little… please”

He had him begging from the beginning and he kept him begging. He lowered his body slowly on top of Stiles taking away what little leverage his legs gave him to rub up to him, and opened his mouth on top of the teen’s sealing both lips between his teeth dropping then carefully his fangs. Stiles’ heart fluttered for a moment, lips opening and tongue searching out for the elongating fangs. He licked them, lapped at them, pressed his mouth at them and tried to invite them in. His hands slid hard up Derek’s back and sides to his head securing it between both his palms and pushed it against his own face. The wolf opened his mouth and lapped into the mouth of the human, careful about his sharp teeth yet letting him enjoy them as much as he wanted. No one had ever showed such fascination for his wolf features.

His hand rubbed circles into the hip of the teen before sliding down to his butt, grabbing it, pushing it towards himself and rubbing his hard cock into his groin. Stiles’ hands pressed against his skull hard as he also shouted more than moaned into his mouth, hips snapping up to meet his body and demand more even though his room for movement had been severely limited. Derek undulated on top of him dipping his cock against his taut belly, against the human’s own hard cock over and over, faster at times, and deliberately slow and hard at others. He kissed his mouth wide open in moan so he wouldn’t moan like the teen beneath him, held tight by his own pleasure. Stiles moaned plenty and freely for him, with each rub, with his time his hips came down hard on him, his shoulder towering up, back curving and lording over him. The wolf slowly retrieved his teeth, kissing hard the human while his reaching beneath him, inching his fingers slowly towards his entrance, and yet not missing a single chance to grab a handful of buttock pushing him up to his body, rubbing into him like a horny boy would hold into a pillow to get off against it. Stiles was more than willing, eager as he held into him, his tongue chasing into his mouth as if scouting for the wolf fangs, his hips pushing up by their own, his cock poking into Derek’s washboard abs.

When Derek’s hand finally slid between Stiles’ ass cheeks, the human suddenly tensed up. Derek paused, his eyes searching the wide blown, scared eyes of the kid beneath him. The wolf’s fingers slid towards Stiles’ ass, eyes widening as he found the slick, hot entrance. A tiny wince escaped the teen.

“I thought…” he tried to explain himself “you know…” he looked a way for a moment and then back at Derek, but not meeting his eyes “the- there wouldn’t be time… and…”

“It would be awkward,” Derek provided with a smile.

Stiles nodded meeting his eyes and his smile.

“Thought I’ll… ease things.”

Derek leaned down and pecked the tip of his upper lip gently.

“Did you enjoy it?” his fingers plunged between his ass cheeks with a clear purpose, no longer carefully exploring, and teased the rim of his stretched entrance. Stiles’ body tensed up, a small choking sound knotting in his throat from surprised while he blushed and slowly shook his head.

Derek smirked dipping to peck again the tip of his upper lip, the corner of his mouth and then pressed his own mouth to the mole peppered check and rubbed it down towards the human’s ear, where he feasted on his lobe and the sensitive skin behind it.

“How about I play with it and we see if I can do it better than you?”

Stiles’ reply was a throaty moan, body arching up and inadvertently pushing his lower body into Derek’s hand. The wolf licked into the patch behind his ear, earning another desperate moan of pleasure and smirked satisfied.

“Is that a yes?”

Stiles’ fingers dug hard into his back.

“Yes…” he wheezed, “fuck, Derek… yes.”

The tension wired into Stiles’ body vibrated clearly for the wolf, who could easily read each sensation, each feeling coursing through the body trapped behind him. Like never before in his life, he wanted to play, play with this body that was not his, that yielded to him, that followed every single of his movements, hungry for each of them. His fingers teased his entrance, rubbing into the tight muscle, pressing against it, feeling it move, yield as it had been opened, but retrieving to increase its hunger. His thumb would press into it, press hard yet placed in such a way that it wouldn’t enter, the knuckle of his other fingers finding ways to tease the human’s perineum, accelerating his breathing, making him louder, but stealing away his words.

Derek bathed his ears with his tongue, sliding down to eat at his neck, and as Stiles’ thighs trembled, he allowed his finger to slowly enter into the core of his heat. With his thumb rubbing hard into his perineum, he drove in his middle finger slowly, pushing in and out, pushing in circular patterns as much as he could around the tight, clasping rim.

“Tell me you want it,” Derek muttered against his neck in a low, deep voice.

Stiles tensed as the finger entered him, his arms encircling Derek’s back, holding himself there for dear life. He gasped into the wolf’s ear.

“Tell me you want it, Stiles,” Derek insisted, not pushing his finger any further, rubbing the rim of his ass and stroking his perineum with his thumb.

Stiles held harder into him and tightened his body, hiding his face in Derek’s shoulder.

“I want it.”

With the words, nearly in time, Derek pushed into the human rubbing harder the path from his ass to the root of his balls. Stiles arched against the feeling, his body heating up and his heart picking up slightly the rhythm. Before Stiles would come down from the high of the feeling, acknowledging the discomfort, he slid his mouth behind his ear, breathed into it and growled against his skin.

“Again, tell me.”

“I want it,” Stiles’ voice started to fray as his words were followed by a deeper, harder push into his body.

“Again.”

“I want it,” his voice started sounding more and more demanding, more and more desperate, his hips trembling, his legs weakening as the demands from Derek to speak, to say he wanted it came over and over, sexy in his ear, sucking on his lobe, chewing a hickey into the base of his neck, and doing something wonderful to his ass.

“Again.”

“I want it!”

Derek’s finger pushed to the hilt, pressing into it and keeping the pressure, biting into Stiles’ neck without breaking the skin while the teen’ arched up against him, muscles clamping tight around him and then grinding into the wolf’s hand. Derek waited, keeping his hand still, kissing and lapping at the human’s neck and making his way up to his mouth, feeding him with his tongue while his thumb kept rubbing at the path from his ass to between his legs. He wouldn’t move his finger, patiently waiting, distracting the guy beneath him with all-consuming kisses, moving his body in response to the caresses Stiles drew down his back, until the human relaxed beneath him. When Stiles was relaxed and gone beneath him and his only purpose in life seemed to be make out with Derek until the end of the world, the wolf started pumping his finger in and out of him in rhythm with the humping of his hips, matching both his finger and his groin in speed and strength, pushing in and out suggestively, working up the kid until he was seeking the friction, pushing his hips down harder on Derek’s hand. The wolf pushed his finger down towards Stiles’ spine creating a deeper sensation that had him soon throwing his head back and howling. In the space, Derek sneaked a second finger and worked it in time with his groin, aiming with his cock into Stiles’ cock, his fingers reaching into his body looking for that one spot that would hammer stars inside his lids.

“Derek, Derek…” Stiles gasped holding into him tight, his mouth blindly looking for his mouth, hands extended and reaching around to grab handfuls of everything. However whatever he had meant to say to the wolf died as Derek’s fingers found his prostate and rubbed it with two thick fingers. His howl of pleasure was deafeningly loud, head thrown completely back and his neck red and thick, veins jutting out in effort, stretched hard and long, exposed for the wolf.

Derek’s hips trembled as his whole body told him it was time to stop the teasing, take his fingers out of Stiles and push his dick in before he came all over the kid. Maybe he should have given him more time, let him adjust, but Stiles’ starved body ate up his fingers and was soon pushing down on them. He tried to slower the rhythm, but Stiles reached between them catching his wrist and pushing it hard. His legs were bending again, hips rising as he tried to get what he wanted: more of that wonderful touch. Derek didn’t take away his hand, let him hold his wrist as he complied and gave him the finger fucking he wanted.

“I like this… I like this… fuck, I really like this…” Stiles gasped as he moved his hips in tandem with Derek’s hand, lost in the feeling waking up inside his ass as well as the godly pleasure rubbed into his cock and belly.

Derek let him fuck himself on his fingers before he took control of it again, directing his fingers to his prostate and making him scream over and over, drawing a broad lick from Stiles’ collarbone to his jaw, biting his chin before licking again in one broad lick his way into his mouth. The teen received him gratefully, easily slipping from pushing for more to receiving what the wolf deemed he should have. He was eager, his body taking him in ways he had never experienced in a lover before. His fingers moved around, pushed towards his spine and scissored inside him before he moved a third finger inside. Stiles’ hips stuttered against him and after a few groans and odd moves while adjusting to a stretching he hadn’t experienced before, he held again into Derek’s back and the wolf let him push him against his body, kissing him behind the ear. The wolf looked for his prostate again and stroke it over and over until the human’s heart accelerated, his body eased and he soon was pushing himself against his hand for more.

“I really… like this… I rea-… like-… this… fuck… Derek…”

“Want more?”

Stiles moaned and stretched his neck back, bearing it for the wolf, who took advantage of it lapping the extent of it up. Once again he let Stiles fuck himself on his fingers, measuring how comfortable he was with the pressure until he was nearly throwing himself onto his palm.

“More… more… more…” Stiles chanted as his body rocked into Derek’s hand.

And Derek gave him more. His body rubbed into that of the boy, their cocks leaking and messing their abs and pubes with smeared beads of translucent precome. His hand was fast, his dick hard, his hips insistent and his body demanding penetration for the sake of his mental sanity. Stiles, however, seemed content with his fingers buried deep in his body, riding them like there was no tomorrow, like he expected his orgasm from his hand alone. The wolf dipped down to kiss him, his mouth melting with the hot, wet mouth of the youngster, while he eased down on the speed and slowly started retrieving his fingers from his yielding body. Stiles, however, hurried to reach between them for his hand, fingers closing like a vice around his wrist and tried to keep him in.

“No, no, don’t take it away…”

“Stiles…”

“No,” Stiles insisted, his fingers tightening around his wrist, his hips pushing up, chasing the fingers pulling out from his ass “I want it, I want it… Derek… please give it back…”

“I’ll give you something else,” Derek tried to free himself as gently as possible, but Stiles’ body was demanding, already addicted to his fingers.

“I want your fingers inside me…” Stiles pleaded reaching up, licking Derek’s lips “put them back… put them inside me… Derek.”

Derek kissed him but pushed his hand back and away from the ass of the teen. Stiles, robbed of all reason, wouldn’t have any of that and fought through the kiss to get the wolf’s fingers inside his ass again.

“Stiles…” Derek warned him.

“A little more… please… I want them inside me…”

“I’ll give you something else…”

“But I want your fingers… Derek…”

They struggled a little, Stiles unwilling to deter from his objective. Seeing no other way, Derek suddenly twisted his grasp on him, wolfing out and flashing his teeth and eyes at him as he pulled his arms back and over his head. Scott, who had been sitting at the foot of the altar trying not to die from embarrassment, jumped up ready to step in and save his friend, not really expecting the view that greeted him, their nakedness, their sweaty bodies, Stiles’ legs nearly climbing the wolf, his body trembling and flushed. Derek would have eyed him, except that right then Stiles ceased all resistance and reached up to lick Derek’s teeth, and then in quite a wolfy fashion, lick his whole face in clear worship. When Derek looked up to fix Scott with a stare meant to defend his turf, he saw the true alpha hung his head down and shake it in defeat as he turned and sat down again. Scott would surely never look at Stiles the same way.

Derek looked down satisfied at the adoring Stiles and pressed his hands down over his head. He changed his hold so he would restrain him only with one hand while his body shifted, moving between legs. He fixed his eyes on those of the teen while his free hand arranged his body, lifting his legs and positioning himself.

“Don’t disobey me again, Stiles,” he said staring hard into hooded, heated brown orbs.

Stiles only heaved, his lips parted and red, his body heated and scented, a clear invitation for the wolf to plunder and take anything he wanted. Derek positioned himself against his twitching, wet entrance and slowly pushed in, purposefully making Stiles feel every inch breeching his body. The human threw his head back again and screamed his pleasure with a ragged throat, his sweaty body shaking, his skin flushed dark. Derek would have told him something, but the tightness of his virgin channel took away his ability to speak. His strong arms weakened and he fell on top of the teen while his hips pushed further into home. His elbows pressed into the altar stone right above the kid’s shoulders, and using them as leverage, he pushed his body into the hot flesh that received him in a vice of pleasure he had never known before. His voice broke, his senses were shattered as he pushed into the howling, sweating heaven receiving him.

He was in. Fuck, he was in. His body tried to keep pushing, trying to fuse into Stiles and be lost forever into a skin, a flesh, an embrace that seemed to hold everything he had ever wanted. He panted and gasped having found his ultimate destination in life, unwilling to move or stop his attempts to push past the physical impossibility of getting any deeper, when a pull of energy pinched his loins. Right, the ritual.

“Anytime you are ready…” he murmured against Stiles’ ear, one of his hands sliding down his neck, trying to take away any pain he could have inflicted on him and finding nothing, but a light, constant vibrating floating close to his skin like a thin halo.

“I was… born ready… for this…”

The human’s eyes seemed to be rolling back from his skull as they slowly landed on the face of the former alpha, hooded and warm, skating across his eyes, his cheeks to his mouth. He licked his lips before he slid back to Derek’s grassy pools. The wolf knew he wanted to be kissed, he needed to be kissed, but this time he didn’t fulfill his desires. His sweat covered face, hair stuck to his forehead, mouth ripe and wanton, eyes desperate and the scent of yearning flaming from his cheeks was a vision to behold, and he intended to do that, relish in the power he had over him, the state of debauchery to which he could reduce him just by pushing into him.

Derek’s hips started moving slowly, letting his energy leak into the body receiving him. Stiles arched against him as he felt that sparkly warmth start to pool beneath his pubes, floating inside him like a cloud of gentle fire. The fingers of the wolf drew a soft path, from his pubes to his navel and that was enough to wake his body instinctively to the ritual, breathing in, arching up, pushing his chin up and silently opening his mouth in delight as the warmth now traveled through his body to his heart. Low moans escaped his parted lips as Derek’s energy was poured into him with each rolling wave of hips, each slick, tight ramming of his cock, and from there, spreading through his body as millions of large, warm hands, traveling up and inside him, touching him all over, caressing his belly, his sides, his butt, his back, his nipples and colliding then around a warm pool, wet and juicy like a kiss over his heart.

“Oh God…”

His hips moved in tandem with Derek as much as he could. The former alpha pushed harder, deeper, trying to keep a gentle, comfortable pace but quickly sped up and there was no power and no level of control he could exercise to make his hips slow down or stop. Stiles moaned freely again against his shoulder as his body was pounded into, his legs moving oddly as he sought for any type of purchase he could use to fuck himself, this time against Derek’s penis. Derek moved the teen’s legs, perching them on his hips, opening more his body for him to enter it. He groaned into his ear and turned his head to watch their bodies meet and move against each other. He wished he had eyes all over his body to see himself enter Stiles from every possible angle.

Soon both of them were moaning and groaning between gasps and ragged breaths. Derek felt greedy and wanted to do to Stiles everything he knew, fuck him in every possible way his mind could come up with. He needed to enjoy absolutely every possible pleasure he could take from him. He thought about how he would like to fuck his mouth hard, make him moan and choke on his cock, and he bit hard into his hot lips. Stiles wrapped his arms around him hard and ducked into the kiss, biting in return, leaving his lips sensitive and feeling raw. The wolf suddenly pulled him up with himself, sitting up and sitting him on his lap. The new position made Stiles slide lower, feel Derek deeper, but the altar offered not enough space for proper leverage. He muttered a low curse, but still cupped Stiles’ ass and moved him on himself a little. The human tried to find purchase to ram himself on the wolf, but his feet skidded off the stone. He then wrapped his legs tight around Derek’s waist and used his arms for leverage, securing them on the wolf’s shoulders. He pushed his body up and then let it slide down hard earning a satisfying growl from the older guy. He couldn’t hide his own self pleased smirk.

“Giving you… a run for your money?” he barely managed to speak.

Derek lifted one eyebrow amused, and then slowly reached behind himself for support, tilting back his body a little and gave Stiles’ pale, sweaty body a once over.

“How about we see first if you move like you speak?”

Stiles smiled, and licked the tip of his upper lip before tightening his legs around the wolf and slowly pushing his body up, ramming it then down hard, hips canting as he slam to the bottom earning a grunt from both of them. He waited nothing as he raised his body up again and slammed it down again now twisting his hips as his body would slide no further, tightening his ass into a vice. The energy from Derek now wrapped around him like a bear hug, tightening around his body, making him moan. He kept slamming down his body, flooding his senses in crisp, hot energy, and though he started to feel tension grabbing his legs, he couldn’t stop, instead he felt more and more capable of moving, as if with each ramming he would get the energy to do ten more, much harder. Derek’s hand was soon on his ass, holding him up. The teen’s body was soon like a well-oiled machine, pistoning on the former alpha as if he would have been engineered for this sole purpose. He wouldn’t recognize pain or tiredness, only the pleasure pushing against him, the warm joy being fucked in the ass, the hard rub against his cock, the promising grab of a hand on his buttock. How did he ever make it this long in life without this? How had he lived years without jumping the wolf on the spot?

“More… more… more… more…” he chanted.

Derek fucked into his body, meeting his movements, slightly biting his lips at that hard twist Stiles gave him every time he sat fully on him. The young Stilinski soon collapsed on his chest, face buried on Derek’s shoulder.

“More…” he still chanted, his hips still in motion “more… more…”

Derek laid him down again carefully, but this time he didn’t lower his hips, With his lower body raised, kneeling over Stiles, he forced the human to curve up his body, twisting his hips in such a manner that he would have free access to his prostate with every single push. Stiles still had his arms around Derek’s shoulders when the older guy started moving again, making him scream. His arms let go of him, forcing the wolf to sneak an arm under his neck and across his shoulders to keep him from sliding off the altar. With the progressively speeding thrusts Stiles tried blindly to hold into something past his head as if he expected a headboard, and finding nothing flailing his arms around for a moment before he reached down, fingers moving in search and expectancy until he found Derek’s knees. There he held harder, getting purchase before proceeding to again ram himself against the body of the wolf.

“God!” the howled once again stretching his neck, offering it to Derek, who nuzzled into it hard, panting from the fucking tight feeling milking him before licking it and biting it a little at the base.

They kept on moving, faster and faster, harder and harder, a bead of precome slowly rolling down Stiles’ taut tummy, when suddenly Derek felt the prickle of energy tickle his face and chest. He looked at the kid and noticed the energy escaping his body. He was loosening his hold on it.

“Keep it in,” he muttered against his ear.

“I’ve… no intention… to let it out…” breathed Stiles.

Derek snapped up his head and his hips stilled. Not understanding, Stiles forced himself to focus his eyes, while his lower body still tried to coax movement from the wolf.

“I mean the energy,” Derek said, maybe a little more amused than he had to.

Stiles blinked, not missing the small, smug little smirk pulling the lips of the former alpha. His body reacted, as if pushed out of the blue into the exercises, remembering the reason why he was there, on a stone altar, naked, with Derek pounding so fucking deliciously into his ass. The ritual. The currents beneath his skin aligned and he harvested and pushed all the energy into his heart in one, quick, smooth move as if he would have come to life doing this.

“Yes… the energy,” he blushed “I know, I…”

Smirking, Derek lowered his head and licked the tip of his nose. His hips rolled deliberately slow and hard into him.

“You meant… this.”

Stiles moaned in pleasure, his eyes melted again, face tipping up and chasing a kiss.

“Say you meant this…” Derek pushed into him again, slow and hard, one hand holding him by grabbing one buttock, digging his fingers into the flesh. Stiles moaned hard.

“Say it…” Derek demanded again.

“Yes,” Stiles yielded “I meant this…”

His hips picked up the pace and Stiles’ throat broke in a litany of moans and groans. Derek bit him, licked him, kissed him while his hips punished him harder, fucking him stupid.

“Say it,” he demanded again without breaking the pace, somehow knowing he needed no threat to make him do his bidding, whatever his bidding was.

“Meant… this,” Stiles was hardly able to speak, his rocking body chopping into his voice “meant… your dick… in my… ass… meant you… fucking me…”

Derek’s hand came holding him hard, sliding from his butt to his waist, pressing him to his body, biting his lips hard, bruising him, his arms pressing him, crushing him, when suddenly all moans and words died on the lips of the teen and his heart jumped fast and loud in his chest. Derek nearly stopped, nearly pulled back, hands over his head like Stiles did that day in the pond, but he stayed. It was the thing, the wild horses. He looked at Stiles, whose eyes had now turned white, his lips parted and pulsing with the loud, hard rhythm of his heart, and his breathing was ragged and fast. He feared for a moment that he would be burned with the energy, but noticed how Stiles, through this, was keeping the energy inside him. He could feel the searing strips course fast beneath his skin like hot iron rods. His eyes widened and he couldn’t but admire the kid capable of such a magical feat.

“Scott!” he howled and watched the true alpha hop on his feet, blushing furiously, and a little startled “Hands on his shoulders!”

Troubled, embarrassed, Scott obeyed, fingers reaching for the shoulders of his friend, pulling quickly away when at the lightest touch the white energy bit hard into him. Derek moved the hand around Stiles’ shoulders and reached for his hand, somehow securing him to Scott’s wrist, forcing him to the human’s shoulder again.

“Hold him tight,” he whispered into the kid in trance, who automatically tightened his grasp around the wrist of his best friend like a vice.

Scott screamed, trying to take his hand away, but Derek soon caught his other wrist and forced it to Stiles’ other shoulder. The true alpha’s veins bulged thick with white light, and his howling was deafening. The burn, the force of it had to be much stronger than what Derek had experienced from the wet dream.

His arm tightened around the small of Stiles’ back, holding him harder to his body, and now he gave into him all he had inside. His energy, his pleasure, all his moves, his fucking… he kept nothing, left nothing back. Everything he had he released into the kid arched against his body, moving still against him, chasing still the pleasure his body could give him, and Derek gave it all feeling himself empty, marveled at how that emptiness burned with a hollow heat that felt more pleasurable than anything he had ever experienced, and yet, that he also strive to give to him. He buried his face against the ear of the young Stilinski and fucked him freely. Stiles’ hips pushed almost by their own, faster and faster as his heartbeats went higher and louder, the thumping of it against his ribcage hitting the wolf on the chest, as if there were someone in there trying to get out.

“D…. D…” Stiles muttered suddenly, eyebrows frowning, fingers trying to claw into him “D… D…”

He was close.

“Come on… come on… I’ll match you…”

A small wheeze left him, his frown deepening, face tensing.

“D…! D…! D…!”

“Come on guys!” Scott shouted, his hands raw red “Finish!”

A louder wheeze, his tension evident on him.

“Come on, my spark,” Derek bit Stiles’ lower lip “I’ll match you… trust me.”

A wave of scented blood overcame his senses. He drove as hard as he could into Stiles a few times more and the moment he felt that tiny tremble before his climax he let his body loose into that of the human, his cock releasing his load in time with the ejaculating of the kid between their bodies. Derek’s throat thickened and shattered in a long, hard howl, Stiles tensed and moaned holding hard into him, as if fearing that the force of his coming would drift him away. He heard Scott scream as well, his body marginally reacting to the call of the alpha, but too weak to actually follow, as he was shoot high into the sky and then let fall back into deep darkness.

****

His eyes had a hard time focusing. He had been out, that much he knew, but he couldn’t be sure he was awake… or live. He couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t feel. Like a feeble ghost trying to repossess his dead corpse. His head was muddled. He couldn’t make out his surroundings. No smell, no vision, no taste, only a light sense of being dropped over another body, a kind of pressure against his chest… and a weak, far away sound. It was the true alpha… strong… very strong… too strong… He couldn’t see, but he knew instinctively. True alpha… rising. Movement. Something was said by the true alpha… something. Then a movement… a kiss… on Stiles’ forehead. He growled and tried to make the corpse move to protect him, protect his turf. His pack, his…. A hand on his head… a sound… and he was back in the depths of absolute darkness.

*****

His nose woke up first. Weak scents. He tried to hold into them, catch them, keep them, pull himself back to life through them. Stiles, cum, stone, candles… earth… wood. His touch was next. Slick, sticky, soft, sharp bones digging into him. His mind wasn’t right, muddled as it was, he tried to collect himself, asses his situation and work from there. Movement… beneath him .Soft movement… breathing. Someone breathing beneath him. Stiles. His senses stretched and strived to catch any sight of threat, but were insufficient. He pushed them against their boundaries expanding them by force. He was weak. He could not move. A thin thread flowed inside him, his life energy, hardly pulsing, hardly visible. Energy creates more energy. Again he pushed hard to smell more, feel more, over and over, not sensing the results of this the expansion for what seemed like ages, until slowly his hearing woke up as well. The sound of nothing, breathing next to his head, a heart thumping so very quietly. He couldn’t move yet. As his eyes woke up, unfocused, blurred, things taking shape slowly, unable to reach far, he wondered for a moment, if this was what it was like to be human.

His senses came back to him slowly. They were alone, still in the chapel, Stiles beneath him perfectly still, perfectly silent. He tried to call him but his voice had not come back to him yet. He decided to worry about his voice later concentrating on getting his body to move. He tried to get any movement from his body, but all he could do was look, trapped in a body that wouldn’t respond. He felt his cock soften and slowly slide out of Stiles’ ass unable to pull it out. He became a sensory witness off his body losing interest, the slow procession of his body naturally pulling out, slapped with cold as he retrieved from the comfortable heat, feeling the cooling cum leak past him, smelling it as it dripped down the curve of the kid’s ass.

It took him a while until he was able to start moving his fingers, flexing then his muscles, tensing them and releasing them to get them working. Slowly he was able to hold himself up on his arms and slide off Stiles’ chest to make sure he could breathe.

“Stiles…” he called him with a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

The teen wouldn’t respond but he would call him and call him until his voice was back and he could hold himself up on hands and knees. Stiles’ perky nose crunched and he made a little sound, a moan of sorts, a whine, before he slowly cracked his eyes open.

“Need to move,” Derek told him “start the energy.”

Brown eyes closed with an exhale but then came a tiny groan. Derek looked at him as his eyes opened, he slowly trying to sit up.

“Takes a while.”

The wolf clumsily sat up, flexing constantly his fingers, then trying to move his legs. He kept exercising, moving slowly, waking his body, testing it, while Stiles seemed to simply follow him with his eyes. After a while, Derek sat at the edge of the altar, dangled his legs and moved them, tested them before slowly sliding off. His feet touched the floor, but as he tried to stand on them his knees gave in and he fell on the floor into a heap. He had gasped in surprise, but then heard clearly how Stiles laughed silently. Not because he was trying to keep it to himself, but because he didn’t have enough energy to muster more. As he could, he climbed up, pulling his body with the help of the altar, eying then at the laughing kid. He tried to glare at him, and he was sure he had managed, but that didn’t erase the amused, soft smile off his face. He walked around the altar a couple of times until his legs felt strong enough to support him. Then he reached for their discarded clothing and fixed the length of fabric clumsily around his hips before weakly helping Stiles back into his tunic.

“I’ll take a bath,” he said “you try to move.”

Stiles looked at him and tried to nod, watching then how the wolf melted into darkness .He then turned his eyes towards the curved ceiling and concentrated in breathing. His curious orbs followed the lines of the whole ceiling, and when his eyes would go no further, he made efforts to move his head. When it wouldn’t work he didn’t try again, turning his attention instead on what he could reach with his eyes. It was a strange place where strange things happened. His mind floated in calm, feeling peaceful and detached. The sensation of his body sipped back into him slowly, making him aware of the sticky wetness between his ass cheeks, the dull pain of his bruised lips, the pulsing feeling on his thighs, the itch that would become a beard burn by morning on his face and neck.

He wasn’t making the efforts Derek had, pushing his body to force the recovery, but laid there peacefully, allowing his limbs to find the movement in themselves. His hands at some point fisted into his tunic, then his arms moved, his legs rolled a little to the sides, as if bored and then his fingers were drumming, unable to stop. It was curiosity driving him, him wanting to take a chance and discover this place where he laid, check more closely the circle he remembered had been made around the altar. His chest was the first to rise, his knees to bend, but he couldn’t get his head to lift. He was trying when Derek walked back into the hall. He heard the sound of his boots on the floor, and then waited, as he saw him come closer, clad in his usual clothes. His body relaxed dropping against the stone altar, absorbed now in watching the wolf come to him. His eyes drank up every detail about him. Derek looked… the way Derek always looked. He waited expectantly, whether he would cross his arms over his chest and fix him with a glare, or say something in the tone he had when he was naked.

“How’s moving going?” he asked.

Stiles searched for his hands, but they were not on his body. He looked back at him and then at his mouth.

“Stiles?”

He looked back at him, and pressed his lips. Why was he waiting a kiss? Derek leaned closer, a hand coming to his shoulder.

“Moving… a little,” the human replied.

Derek’s mouth twisted into a smirk of sarcasm, though there was no heat in it.

“Of course you would speak before you can even move.”

Stiles smiled at him. Derek just looked at him scolding him with his glare, and leaned to help him up. Stiles kept smiling, happy to have the wolf’s arms around him. Derek helped him patiently to get back his mobility, then helping him to his feet. His arm was tight on his waist, holding him, having him put an arm around his broad shoulders and securing it there by holding his wrist. He walked him a couple of times before taking him to room where Isaac had rubbed the wax into his skin, and then to the tiny adjacent bathroom. The former alpha carefully helped him out of his tunic and then leaned into the shower to get it started.

“Can you wash yourself?”

Stiles looked at him, trying to read him and then just resting his eyes on him. He liked looking at him, made him feel peaceful. He nodded slowly, and watched him leave the bathroom to give him privacy. He walked then to the shower, dragging his shoulder against the wall, when he slipped on a wet tile.

“Shit!”

He tried to get back on his feet, the feat more difficult than he expected it to be. Derek was there in no time, picking him up from the floor and helping him back to his feet.

“I’m… fine… I got it,” Stiles said.

“Of course you do,” Derek said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Stiles let him hoist him back and waited while the wolf checked him for injuries.¸

“Derek…”

The former alpha looked at him.

“I think… maybe I can’t… wash myself after all.”

Derek’s expression softened a little without a smile ever appearing on his face. He nodded shortly and helped Stiles sit on the toilet. He undid his clothes before helping him up again and taking him under the shower. He had him facing the wall while his big hands rubbed his skin clean, reaching private places as easily as the rest of his body without the least trace of awkwardness. Stiles allowed him to wash him in silence, held into the wall as much as he could, let his body be turned and moved and soaped and rinsed. When Derek closed the tap, his head tilted towards the shoulder of the wolf.

“We have changed,” he muttered.

Derek remained still behind him, his arm around his chest holding him. He didn’t say a word, but he no longer have to. Stiles knew he thought so. They have changed.

Derek dried them up, dressed them and then helped Stiles to the car. He drove them to the Stilinski home, killing the engine as he got there.

“You can pick up your car up tomorrow.”

Stiles nodded.

“Can you get into bed by yourself?”

Stiles looked at him and smiled. Derek let out a breath and undid his own safety belt.

The house was empty. Derek helped Stiles with the keys and then walked him to his bedroom.

“Thank you,” the teen said has they were past the door thinking Derek would leave him, but the wolf walked him to the bed, where he sat him and then started undressing him.

He fished out some old sweatpants and a worn t-shirt and put them on Stiles before helping him into bed.

“Are you feeling good?” Stiles grabbed his arm as he was about to leave.

“A little weak still,” Derek admitted.

Stiles looked over him. He had noticed his slower movements, his uncharacteristically careful driving.

“You can stay if you want,” he offered.

Derek looked at him, studied his face, and though his own face was a mask, Stiles would have sworn he had seen the beginnings of a smile hidden deep underneath his skin. The silence stretched a few seconds past the normal span of it

“Haven’t we been together long enough?”

It was a question. A question. The tone was soft, low, perhaps even tentative, not sarcastic, not annoyed, just a question. Stiles searched his face. Maybe Derek wanted to be alone. Things have happened, they both needed to process things.

“I guess we have.”

Then there was a smirk smile, and the wolf walked to the door pulling it after himself.

“Rest, Stiles.”

“Ok,” he said closing his eyes “Be careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So-Called Fun Fact: This chapter has been something. The guys again decided not to follow orders, but this time they just outdid themselves. Some scenes had to be rewritten a couple of times to smooth them out (hope no incongruencies are showing!), but then there's "the scene". Now, normally I like to plan everything, so I had a basic line about how the ritual would go on, much limited in positions, and a bit more of emphasis on the magical part. Well, the guys decided to forget about the ritual and just have fun. The scene were Derek lifts Stiles onto his lap wasn't even supposed to happen, and when it did I allowed it thinking "They can't last there, so Derek is going to put him down", but then Stiles took care of it and did what... you read he did.
> 
> Sometimes is awesome to have characters that write themselves :-)


	9. Why, Oh Why Life Can’t Ever Go As Planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ritual done, everything back to normal, except Stiles can't get back to normal. He has fallen for Derek but doesn't know how to face his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal thanks to my betas for their support and help. Thanks to @shotahunter who had to beta this chapter in the last minute, literally, so I wouldn't make much of a fool of myself. Honey, THANK YOU! To @fuckingdarkstiles, in all her names, :-) Thank you for your comments, your support, your endless help and all that positive energy.
> 
> To all of you who read this fanfic, thank you! I've gotten really beautiful comments, and... oh boy, those make my day and make me want to keep writing!
> 
> Well, lets stop chatting and leaving you with the last chapter of this fic.

He woke up to his old alarm clock. Pain clawed around his heart as his eyes opened and he found himself in his own bed, in his own room. There was no empty space next to him, no pillow he could pull to his face and smell in it the scent of the wolf. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, and his hand hopefully reached out, sliding across his bed to the side Derek would have occupied. Each second was far more painful than the one before. His chest waved, he heaved and turned to bury his face in his pillow, trying to choke out his desire to cry. It was over.

His dad knocked on the door before opening slowly. There was a smile on his face, but as he saw him, a frown quickly passed across his features.

“Morning, son,” his dad greeted him.

“Morning, dad.”

“Don’t be late,” he said kindly before moving back from his bedroom.

He pulled himself up and rubbed his face. It was a new day, and he had to face it.

Everything from his normal life did nothing but remind him of that week with Derek, the tiny house, the times they ate together, the tasks, the ritual. His bathroom was now huge, the tiles didn’t smell of Derek, there was no damp towel there that would smell like the wolf, an extra tooth brush or a razor that haven’t seen much action lately. His neck was laid with a choker made of purple hickeys that told the tale of the path Derek’s mouth had followed. His neck and cheeks were raw with beard burn, his lips bruised. He touched them, slowly moving one of his hands over his mouth as the other traced the marks left by the former alpha gingerly, reliving those bites, those kisses. His eyes closed and he remembered his powerful arms around him, holding him, crushing him. His mouth on him, his fingers in him, his eyes glowing blue, his fangs elongating for him and him alone, his tongue… He sobbed. It had hit him hard.

He did his best to cover the hickeys, but wasn’t sure his dad hadn’t noticed them.

“How did the project go?” his dad asked him when he got down and picked up some breakfast.

Stiles wanted to die. It had gone wonderfully, it had elevated him and now that he had known ultimate happiness, he was forced to return to his normal life, without toothy smiles and heatless sarcasm, without hot bodies curling naked under the cover with him… without mind blowing sex.

“It went fine,” he said in a tone that raised all red flags for his dad. Stiles didn’t want to talk about it, so probably it was something really bad.

He took a sip of coffee.

“I didn’t see the jeep.”

“It’s still there,” Stiles hurried to say not meeting his dad’s eyes.

“And how did you get back here?”

Something Stiles had so difficultly pieced up together was breaking again.

“Derek gave me a ride- Dad, I don’t want to talk about it right now, ok?”

The Sheriff nodded and finished his coffee before standing up.

“I’ll take you to school then.”

Stiles nodded and headed out.

The trip was silent and heavy. At school people looked at him, as he got out of his dad’s car, and he could see them wonder why wasn’t Derek driving him. Had he been dropped? Yes, he had been dropped.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff stopped his son. Stiles looked at his dad, “Whatever it is,” he said “you can always talk to me, and we can solve it, ok?”

Stiles smiled and nodded.

“There’s nothing to solve, dad.”

The day was hell, and he could barely pay attention to anyone. He kind of expected Scott to be odd around him, after having witnessed how he lost his virginity impaled on the cock of a Hale, but his best friend, seeing him in such a devastated state, held him tight in his arms, kissed his ear and promised him that everything would be fine. Isaac tried to talk to him, tell him about the epic battle against Castor, how Scott had walked in there imposing, how the match was tight, which surprised Castor, and yet how the monster ended crushed under the power of the True Alpha, whose eyes glowed redder than ever. But Stiles couldn’t hear him, so the puppy also took him in his arms and held him hard.

“Does this mean you are taking a rain check on that date we talked about?”

Stiles smiled feebly, his hands coming up to cup the head of the pup and pressed their foreheads together.

He was miserable the rest of the day, whatever he did. If people murmured or not, he didn’t mind, if they laughed at him for not showing up with the tall, dark, handsome guy with the black Camaro, he didn’t care. If people saw his hickeys, guessed what the redness of his cheeks and neck really was, he didn’t care. He might be in high school hell for all he was concerned, as there was something worse going on: he was mourning his loss of Derek. He was so depressed no teacher gave him detention even when he didn’t pay attention nor did he respond to their questions. One of his teachers actually asked him to stay a little and tried talking to him, find out if he was ok, and he barely got the strength to answer. When asked if he wanted to go home early, he only shook his head. All he needed was to go back to his room, to his house and miss Derek, notice all the things Derek wasn’t in.

Scott and Isaac became his shadows keeping him company, talking to him about every silly thing they could think about. Their hands reached out and touched him often, and remembered Jackson’s most shameful moments, of which Isaac had witnessed plenty, and that seemed to do the trick. A weak smile stretched his lips and soon he was laughing a little with his friends as they remembered the times Jackson had made a fool of himself.

By the end of the day he was feeling slightly better, which was good, because he had to go back to the tiny house and pick up his jeep and his things. Scott offered to go with him, but Stiles dismissed the offer. Somehow it didn’t feel right to take his best friend to the one place he had shared so deeply with Derek, even though he was there when they had sex. He wanted that tiny house to remain sacred, untouched, filled only with memories of that week. His index finger nervously rubbed against his lower lip, and each of those days played over and over in his head in an infinite loop.

His jeep was there and the Camaro had been parked right behind it. He stopped in front of the house and took a couple of deep breaths before he grabbed tighter on the strap of his backpack and walked in.

“Derek, I’m here!” he called from the door, and did his best to keep himself in check.

The house had been cleaned and arranged already, all traces of them living there were gone. Derek’s jacket wasn’t on the couch, though their car keys were still on the same corner. Chairs tucked at the table, no mugs from breakfast drying next to the sink. The wolf walked out of the bedroom and looked at him.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Just finished with the bathroom”, the wolf told him as he walked into the kitchen to throw something out “put your things on the bed.”

Stiles casted his head down to hide his smile. He would miss every second of this.

“Thanks, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s quicker this way,” Derek said nonchalantly.

Stiles nodded, and then made his way to the bedroom, trying not to look directly at the wolf.

“I’ll pick up my things then.”

Derek nodded while looking around the kitchen. As he walked to the bedroom, Stiles looked back at the wolf, standing there, looking for something. That had been their kitchen.

In the bedroom he found his pile of clothes, somewhat moved around, as if someone would have pushed it one way and the other to clean beneath it. He took his bag from the closet, where now only his clothes were, and put all of them in one swing in. He then started stuffing his laundry – yeah, that was all just laundry already – not caring if he mixed clean clothes with them, when he saw something beneath it that wasn’t his. He pulled the gray fabric towards himself and discovered it was one of Derek’s tank tops. He thought about telling him he forgot it, but then he took it to his face, and smelled it. It was the scent he missed. He looked towards the door, and not seeing Derek there, he took one of his clean shirts and carefully wrapped in it the tank top, quickly then burying it in his bag and covering it with his laundry. He then threw in his toiletries, closed his bag and refused to look one last time at the room, as he walked out.

“Finished?” Derek asked.

Stiles looked around the house and nodded, trying to look at Derek as little as possible.

“Yes, I think.”

Derek nodded looking then away as if thinking of something or checking one last time.

“I’ll take the keys back to Deaton.”

Stiles nodded. They stood there a little, Stiles looking at the table where they ate, where he made his homework for a week.

“Well then,” Derek said, and Stiles looked at him, his eyes betraying some of his sadness.

“This is it, then.”

Derek nodded and looked down, then making a movement with his head to signal him to go. Stiles nodded, mostly to himself, and started walking, leaving the house for good. As he walked past Derek he heard the crunching of the leather jacket.

“Still interested in reading it?”

Stiles looked at him surprised, as the former alpha was holding towards him the book he had been reading. Stiles looked at the book and reached out for it.

“Yeah, sure!” he said in a tone of voice way too geeky to mask it “Thank you!”

“It’s really good,” Derek said with a little grimace that tried to be something like a smirk or a smile but wasn’t either of them.

“Thank you, really,” Stiles looked at him, his heart light as he let himself be consumed by the idea of reading that book. Derek’s lips stretched in a tense smile, the kind he always did when he was aboutto lose his patience, and with one hand on his back, led him out. The door was locked behind them and each went to their own cars.

“Be careful,” Derek said.

“You too!” Stiles said snapping his head up as he was reading the back cover of the book.

Then they drove off in different directions.

****

The days that followed were bleak. He put Derek’s tank top in his pillow case and pulled it out every night, wrapping a hand in it and pressing it to his nose. It didn’t make thing better, but kept them from going worse. Sometimes he would hold it to his face or bury his face in it and touch himself. He yearned for that touch he had known, the way the wolf could fill his whole body, hold him down, tower on top him, pull him up, lay him down, touch his sides, touch him inside, press him to his body and rock his world. He choked each of his moans and cries into that tank top, and went crazy.

The reading wasn’t going any easier either, as he cradled the book in his hand and read the story otherwise engaging, he couldn’t but remember each time Derek was immersed in the world of the book, imagining what could he have been thinking with each scene, whether this was another glimpse of the guy he was, a geeky kid too with a taste for dystopian universes and amazing internet. His eyes soon left the lines and the book gently landed next to his face like a faithful dog while he was away in his mind and heart, days into the past, walking back into the tiny house, finding the wolf on the couch reading, looking up to acknowledge his presence and then sinking back into future Japan with foam slabs for beds and casket-like living arrangements.

Scott didn’t leave his side for a second, often walking him home and staying with him, or insisting in Stiles stopping by his place, so they would try and goof around a little. Kira was relegated to a second place, but the gentle girl understood completely and never mentioned it, tactfully occupying her time with Lydia. He could tell Scott was making an extraordinary effort reading the news looking for any sort of mystery or gory murder that could take his mind off Derek.

They were having lunch one day, the three of them, Scott making a better job out of hiding his pity and concern than Isaac. The pup them reached over and touched his hand.

“Is it really that bad?”

Stiles looked at him, his beautiful blue eyes full of genuine concern.

“I don’t remember ever getting this floored,” Stiles smiled and looked at Lydia, as if by looking at her he could recall the details of how he felt when he fell in love with her.

No, when he fell in love with Lydia he was nine and the feeling hit him like lightning. Just one look at her, her cascading strawberry blonde locks, her luminouseyes, her perfect mouth, her flawless skin, the way she moved and acted, as if the whole world’s only purpose was to entertain her. He had fallen on his knees and worshipped the ground on which she walked. No, it had not been the same, he had no ground to compare.

“Then again,” he added looking at Isaac “I’ve never got laid before, so maybe that also plays into it.”

Isaac smirked and leaned closer.

“Was it that good?”

“You have no idea,” Scott replied, earning surprised looks from the other two teens. The true alpha looked at them and lifted his shoulders “I was there, remember?”

Stiles let his head hit the desk.

“God, don’t remind me,” he said completely embarrassed.

“I wish I would not remember either,” his best friend said “but I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

There was a pause for silence, a moment to wallow in shame and then use the chance to change subject.

“So what was like?”

Or not.

Isaac had turned to his alpha expecting the reply. Scott looked lost, head turning around for help but not finding any. Maybe he would have tried one of his evasive tactics, like the ones he often employed with his best friend, but the pup was different and there was no deterringhim when he wanted something.

“It was… hot.”

Isaac smiled wide and made himself more comfortable leaning against the table clearly indicating he wanted to hear more. Stiles lifted his head and looked at his friend with a surprised expression.

“So, hot,” Isaac smiled.

“And loud,” Scott added making Isaac smile more, greedy for what he had heard.

Scott looked at Stiles. There was understanding, but also surprise. Stiles pushed up and focused on his friend.

“You were loud,” Scott said making Stiles blush furiously, “and Derek was… talking dirty.”

“So he does his talking in bed,” Isaac smirked.

“He wasn’t talking dirty,” Stiles countered, somehow feeling the need to defend Derek’s honor.

Scott’s eyebrows went up high.

“It sounded plenty sexy from where I was, and I was trying not to listen.”

Stiles looked away in shame, biting his lips. Scott reached out and touched his hand.

“Look, Stiles,” he said gently “you did tell me he was being nice to you in the days before the ritual, and the sex was, from what I heard and saw, out of this world. Haven’t you considered that he might be feeling the same way for you?”

Stiles frowned at him. Scott didn’t get it.

“I’ve never seen him that nice with anyone,” his best friend ensured him.

Stiles sighed and stood up gathering his things.

“It was for the ritual, Scott,” he said pulling the backpack over his shoulder “he made it clear at the beginning. He wanted me to call it off, to save us the trouble of this happening. He didn’t want this and I promised him there wouldn’t be any. Now I failed, I didn’t keep my promise.”

He stepped away, ready to leave, but Scott’s hand stopped him.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he apologized.

Stiles smiled and shook his head.

“You haven’t, I’m just having a minor Derek-induced-crush-crisis,” he explained “just need a moment alone.”

He walked out and sat behind the school building. His hands rubbed his face and he tried not to think, block all images of the tall, dark, handsome guy, when another tall, dark, handsome, guy plopped next to him and hugged him.

“You can be alone all you want, but I’ll be alone with you.”

His head leaned on Scott’s shoulder and he thanked the powers that be for giving him such a good friend.

****

Stiles knew he was having it bad, not only because the dull ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away, not only because his friends were worried, not only because his teachers seemed worried, but then because his dad mentioned it finally one day at dinner.

He had thought about venturing into the kitchen and do something when he remembered that the few things he could do weren’t healthy, and then, now the kitchen reminded him of Derek and how the wolf had a fixation for meat and potatoes. He had ended up getting something from the diner. His dad sat before him frowning at the veggie burger and trying to inch his hand to Stiles’ curly fries, when suddenly he spoke breaking the deadly silence that had set camp lately at the Stilinski residence.

“Ok, out with it, kid,” he said earning Stiles’ attention “who’s she?”

He frowned.

“Who’s who?”

His dad gave him The Look.

“Don’t play dumb, son,” he said “I know you. The girl who has you in thisstate, AND,” he raised his voice before Stiles could say something and deny it “who is not Lydia Martin.”

Stiles’ eyes widened.

“What makes you think it’s not Lydia?”

And there was The Look again. The Look that said ‘you can’t fool me’.

“I live with you, Stiles,” he said “I’ve seen you fall in love with that girl, I know how that crush looks on you, the things you do, the money you spend on her, the obsession you have with her… and I can see that this is something much deeper. So who’s the lucky lady?”

Stiles licked his lips and looked away.

“It doesn’t matter, dad,” he said “I’ve no chances.”

“Only if you think like that, son,” he tried to cheer him up “You are a wonderful kid, with so many things to give, so much good about you. You should give yourself a shot.”

Stiles pressed his lips trying to smile, casting his head and nodding for his dad. There was no point in letting him know.

“So… who is she?” his dad asked with a smile, as if the heaviness of the room would have lifted.

Stiles took a second to think. It was his dad, he might as well know.

“It’s Derek Hale…” he said, his words going lower at the end of the sentence.

“Sorry?” his dad said leaning over the table, his eyes squinting as if he missed something “I quite didn’t catch the end of that.”

Stiles blinked a tad confused.

“Derek Hale.”

“Yes, I caught that part, what was after that?”

Stiles straightened.

“Nothing,” he watched his father straighten confused, words and faces trying to make sense in his head, but before he could ask again, Stiles clarified “It’s not a ‘she’, dad, it’s Derek Hale.”

His eyes widened and he slowly put down his hands on the table.

“As in the Derek Hale we know?”

Stiles nodded.

“The werewolf whom I’ve arrested a couple of times?”

“He was cleared.”

The Sheriff’s chest puffed the way he did when he was taking air to speak and avoid showing just how mad he was.

“So let me see if I understand this,” he said “you, had stopped obsessing for Lydia to fall in love for a guy you and your partner in crime have accused of murder? Who is also a werewolf? And likes to live in evicted housed and abandoned train stations?”

“He lives in a loft now, dad,” Stiles tried to defend him. He was doing that a lot lately “it’s quite nice.”

His dad only looked at him.

“Stiles,” he ignored what he said “are you telling me you are in love with a guy?”

Stiles bit his lips and nodded. The Sheriff nodded.

“A guy who is a werewolf.”

Stiles nodded again.

“A werewolf who has been in trouble much more that you and Scott combined.”

Stiles was about to refute that, but as his father’s eyebrow rose, he clamped his mouth and nodded. The Sheriff sighed.

“Stiles!” his father whined a little “of all the good, human guys and girls in Beacon Hills, you have to go for the most dangerous werewolf you can find!?”

“Well, dad,” Stiles faced him “we are talking about Derek, not Peter Hale.”

The Sheriff was about to say something but closed his mouth considering it and conceding. It could have been worse, indeed, though Peter had never been handcuffed and dragged to jail.

“Dad,” Stiles said softly “I didn’t mean to.”

His father stood from his chair, came around the table and hugged him hard.

“It’s ok, son,” he assured him “it’s ok.”

He held his son for a long time. God, this was real. For the extent of his suffering, for the lengthof the embrace, his feelings for the werewolf were strong.

“The project you helped with, had to do with werewolves, right?”

Stiles nodded, but said nothing.

“He was there too, wasn’t he?”

The kid nodded again.

“Did he do something?”

Stiles didn’t move. The silence stretched long between them.

“The morning after you came back,” the Sheriff said “I saw…”

Stiles pushed away gently shaking his head.

“No, dad,” he said “he didn’t hurt me, he didn’t lead me on,” his eyes met his father’s and the Sheriff could see the crystal clear truth shine in them “he was nothing but nice and protective. It was all me,” he said “it was just me, falling… me hoping for something that have never been there.”

His father didn’t want to see him lose hope, but he knew better than to say anything. He pulled him hard to his chest and kissed his ear.

“You’ll get through this, son,” he rubbed his back “you are strong, you’ll make it.”

Oddly enough those were the words that made him decide to face the music. Derek had told him clearly, had warned him against this, and it wasn’t fair either to burden his friends with feelings that could vanish in… well… a couple of years. His dad was right, he would survive this. How, he had no idea – not yet! –but he would. Pining after Lydia didn’t kill him, so why would it be different with Derek? Because he was nice, had a wonderful smile, a body carved by the gods and could do things to his body he wouldn’t have thought possible? Ok, that line of thinking wasn’t helping.

First things first, he had to … “detox”. Yes, detox. Just make sure he didn’t think too much of the wolf, and so he did a list of steps. First, he had to stay away from him until these feelings inside him went back enough to be controlled. That could take… maybe a couple of weeks, but he would manage. Then… then he had to do himself a favor and get rid of the things that reminded him of the wolf. Put away books about werewolves, hide from site the files he had compiled on all the Hales and everything related to the Hales. That included giving back Derek his tank top and his book. Then… then… His hand came to his head and he racked his fingers through his hair. Thinking of getting rid of the book and the tank top was painful. But he would do it.

“I want to see Derek again, don’t I?” he reasoned with himself “Well, in order to do that again I have to get cured of this.”

Then he would play music loud, stalk Lydia a little, spend more time with Scott… yes… he had to then get entertained, so that Derek wouldn’t enter his mind.

He started with the filing away, noticing how his werewolf files had consumed most of his space in the recent year. Stacks or books and printed out articles, notes scribbled in his spidery handwriting, maps with wolf locations and supernatural events circled up. A wall with pictures, notes, post its, clippings and red threads connecting them. All of that got into a big plastic bin, and then another, and then another and all stacked up and pushed into his closet, as far as it would go.His room was pretty empty when he finished, old posters surfacing he didn’t remember he had. 

Over and over he went through his files, deleted something else, threw out another page, put another book in the pile of books to return to the library, anything to stall the moment to touch the things he had to give back in order to heal.

His heart broke loud when his fingers touched the tank top, but he resolutely took it to the washing machine and threw it in. He bit his lips raw watching it spin alone there. Derek’s scent was leaving the fabric and going down the drain. Once the cycle was over, he took the piece out and went for the book to his room. There was no point in delaying this any longer.

He drove to Derek’s loft, not knowing whether he wanted to find him there or simply leave a note. All the scenarios played in his head, and none of them was good. If he was there, would he have the courage to tell him what was going on? He practiced over and over while driving.

“Hi, Derek,” he said to the road “I came to give you back your book and the wife beater I stole from you.” He frowned. “No, I can’t say that.” Then he tried again “Guess what? I’ve got a crush, so in order to kill it, I have to vanish you from my life while I recover.” No, that wasn’t good either. His jaw tensed and he tried again “I know you told me not to fall for you, but I did, so here are your things…” he hit the driving wheel losing his patience. This wasn’t working.

Then, would he be able to even speak as he saw Derek? Or would he stupidly stand there and wish to throw himself on him, give him his body and soul, wishing for him to take it only to be floored for what the former alpha had so clearly stated: there had been nothing before and there wouldn’t be anything after. This was “after”. Leaving a note was another option, but he wasn’t sure about how well would that go, just dumping his situation on the wolf and cowardly pull away, not giving him a chance to reply.

When he parked in front of the building, he could see the lights on at this loft, so he stayed a little more in his jeep, thinking and gathering his strength. His heart drummed hard in his chest, both excited for seeing him again, and apprehensive… for seeing him again.

It took him nearly an hour to talk himself into walking up to the loft instead of making an exit and returning to his house with the tail between his legs. The stairs perhaps seemed a longer way than the elevator, but no matter how slowly he took each flight, he still made it up to the loft faster than he would have wished. His hands grabbed the handle of the iron door and pushed it open. Derek was there, before the long table by the panoramic windows, waiting for him. Of course, he would have heard him arrive and probably was wondering what took him that long to get there.

“Hi,” he greeted the wolf meekly.

“Hello, Stiles,” Derek said with a short nod. 

Stiles casted his face and licked his lips, turning then to close the door and slowly walk into the loft.

“I’ve…” he stuttered “brought you back something.”

He extended his hand and gave the wolf the book. Derek frowned looking at the book and then at the human, but took the book.

“Haven’t actually finished that one,” Stiles hurried to say, and then produced his tank top and gave him back that too “I took that,” he admitted “but already washed it, so…” he said taking a step back and rubbing his hands down his side.

He watched as the wolf put the things down the table behind him and then turned to look at him. His hands were leaning on the table, at his sides, not crossed before his broad chest… chest Stiles was not going to stare at, so he quickly looked away towards the spiral stairs and quickly past them as it occurred to him that maybe those lead to Derek’s bedroom or bathroom, and those were thoughts he should not think of.

“I…” he started but couldn’t continue. His head hung down and shook slowly. When he raised his head again to look at Derek.There he was, handsome and expecting, face open, gentle. Stiles licked his lips and tried again.

“You were right,” he said, “from the beginning.”

Derek frowned not understanding, but said nothing as he gave him room to say what he had come to say.

“You were right when you said I shouldn’t have done that,” the admitted, noticing how the features of the wolf hardened. Great, he was in on him, he was going to get mad, chew him a new one and throw him out. Stiles licked his lips nervously and continued “I should have listened to you.”

Derek didn’t move, his eyes on the teen, his face holding too still, fixed on a mask to keep him from reading into his thoughts. Might as well. He should tell him, let the wolf get mad at him and then maybe that would help him get over it all. The former alpha remained silent, didn’t say a word, waited on him. Stiles casted his face down a moment before continuing.

“Still,” he said softly, yet confident that the wolf would hear him “I can’t say I regret anything.” 

He raised his head and looked the wolf in the eyes. Those green eyes held him. 

“I’ve got to know you, got to see a side of you I would have never imagined you have. Maybe I forgot you were doing all that for the ritual, being nice and all, but I guess I took it too seriously in the end, inspite of telling myself time and again thatyou were being nice, you were letting me close only for the ritual.”

“You told me, I know, you told me, that there had been nothing before and there would be nothing after, and you held your part of the deal. I didn’t. I’ve got to like you and now I can’t un-like you so easily. I can’t stop from wishing us back in that house, can’tkeep myself from expecting you for breakfast and dinner, can’t help wanting to see you reading or throwing your jacket on the couch, I…!”

Stiles bit his lip as heat was taking over him, the searing pain of his feeling flaring.

“You were clear, we have been together long enough, it was time to go back to normal. You warned me from the beginning, you tried to protect me like the good alpha you are…” he tilted his head to the side and lifted his eyebrows considering for a moment “when you are not actually the alpha.”

His eyes met those of Derek and he saw the expression he knew would be there: annoyed. He smiled. He already knew him so well.

“I’ve got a really bad crush on you, Derek Hale,” he admitted quietly “I didn’t even get it this bad with Lydia, and I’ve been in love with her since the third grade.”

He smiled apologetically at the wolf, whose expression wasn’t so closed any more, a bit more relaxed, but a small frown told him he was trying to figure out where this was going and not getting to it.

“So yeah,” Stiles took a deep breath “I came to tell you that I know what you told me, and though I still, you know, got like this, I’ll keep my end of the deal and… get over it,” he nodded, mostly to himself “so I decided, you know, to do that, I’ll have to avoid you and all things that could remind me of you,” he made a gesture towards the book and the tank top “until I get over it. Or the worse of it,” he tried to joke, “I mean, if it has taken me almost eight years to get over Lydia I might take me like fifty-” he bit his lips as the wolf’s eyebrows went to his hairline. He tried a smirk again “You said it, we’ve been together long enough, right? You could also use a break from me.”

He tried a laugher that was too nervous to trick anyone. Derek’s face didn’t change, only his eyebrows descended to their original place. Stiles nodded shortly to himself, as if deciding his task was done.

“I’m leaving now, then,” he said “take care.”

Derek didn’t answer.

As he got to the door, he turned to the wolf, who was still there, in the same position, looking at him, probably making sure he would leave.

“I wanted to ask you,” he said squinting a little his eyes “is sex always that good? Because I’ve heard that first times are usually awkward and awful, and that was anything but-” his smile was widening, giddy and proud remembering the ritual, but as his eyes fell on the wolf, who still held the same expression and the same position,he felt ashamed.Dropping his smile and frowning a little to fight away his embarrassment “Yeah, I’ll just…” he signaled towards the door “find out that by myself… I mean, with someone else, I’ve plenty of experience with doing it with my…self” Derek was still glaring at him “I’ll just shut up and leave before I can embarrass myself any further.”

He nodded to himself, took a last look at the wolf and left.

He wasn’t out of the woods yet, he could feel his feelings for Derek flare up inside him, but it no longer hurt him. Maybe he could do this, maybe he could get over it, or at least tame his feelings. Who knows, maybe he could live his whole life in love with him and not have that halt his existence.

“I’m in love with Derek Hale,” he said to himself while driving.

Yes, he could do this. He would do this. He would find a way.

He tried to not let the gloom take over him again, so he went online, but then didn’t feel like talking to Scott, nor actually doing anything on his computer. Uncharacteristically to him, he sat on his bed, knees up, and just thought of Derek, and tried to draft a plan to follow. He put up some music and let himself drift. His dad had the night shift, so he wouldn’t mind… and hopefully the neighbors wouldn’t call to complain. He needed to put his mind in blank of think of something else. Maybe watch some TV.

Yeah, that wouldn’t do it as that reminded him of Derek and his comments about his choice of series.

“Isn’t there anything from your own generation you like to watch?” he had said then. His hand came up to his mouth and he rubbed his lower lip with his fingers. He could feel them get itchy, buzz while his memory offered him a wide selection of smiles and smirks from Derek. His annoyed grimaces, his sarcastic smirks, and those sexy over the shoulder smiles he had given him and had made his chest flutter.

He would have stayed like that for all eternity if his window wouldn’t have opened. He first thought it was Scott checking on him. He didn’t tell him about his plans and haven’t replied many of his texts, wasn’t online, so it was only logical the golden hearted true alpha was coming to check on his ailing friend. Then he saw a long, strong leg in black boots and black jeans step in, followed by the rest of Derek. Damned, didn’t he get the basic idea behind “detox”? He had to stay clean from his drug! Derek was his drug! Or was it that he came now to dish him a piece of his mind?

Derek didn’t blink, didn’t greet as he walked into the room and extended his hand with the book.

“I gave it to you so you read it,” he moved it a little to tell Stiles he should take it “so read it.”

“Derek,” Stiles said sliding off the bed “that’s not-”

The wolf lifted one eyebrow and that ended the discussion. Stiles took the book and put in on his nightstand. The wolf then handed him a red t-shirt.

“This is yours.”

Stiles took it.

“I thought I lost it!” he said happy to have it back “Did it get mixed with your stuff?”

“No.”

Stiles looked at the wolf and frowned not understanding. Then were did he find it? Had he gone back to the tiny house? Had Deaton found it and asked Derek to return it? Derek walked back and leaned on the window.

“I asked you,” he said slowly “I didn’t tell you, I asked you if we haven’t been together long enough.”

Okay, this was getting really confusing. Stiles dropped his t-shirt on the bed and focused on the wolf to make sure he understood what he was trying to tell him. Damned, why couldn’t Derek speak clearly like all others did?

“You said you guessed so, so I left,” his eyes were fixed on him, a flame slowly dancing in them “but I would have stayed if you would have thought it wasn’t long enough.”

Stiles shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t understand,” he tried to get his words in order and make a meaning out of them “what are you saying?”

Derek pushed himself from the window and walked to Stiles. He stood in front of him, his beautiful eyes burning him.

“Don’t get over it.”

His eyes widened, but then his head was held between two large hands and the wolf dipped for his mouth, gently capturing it. Stiles passed his thumbs over the tips of his fingers counting and counting again to make sure it wasn’t a dream. When time and again they checked out – five on each hand – he reached up, hands going for Derek’s waist, pulling him gently towards his body, which the former alpha allowed. His lips parted and, sucking in, he welcomed the wolf’s tongue inside.

Like they were back in the chapel, on the altar, Derek’s mouth was over his, eating it away, juicy as it sucked on his lips, playful as he pushed at his tongue and rolled it with his own. His hold changed to slid one hand to the nape of his neck while the other slid down his back to the smallof it, holding him tighter. Stiles’ hands slid under Derek’s henley, fingers rubbing gently to get under the waistband of his jeans. The kiss went deeper, more demanding, Derek using his hand on Stiles’ neck to push him more into him. With each turn their mouths separated hungrily only to collapse on each other to resume and make up for the time apart.

“Derek,” Stiles pulled apart gasping.

Derek held him still close, his ragged breath clashing on the reef of his lips. He looked at the wolf with hooded eyes.

“I’m not sure I can handle this being a casual thing.”

Derek smiled and pecked his upper lip’s center. His mouth then sucked in the teen’s upper lips and pulled on it letting it slide free slowly.

“Good.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, looking for confirmation of what he thought he heard, and there it was, in the warm eyes of the older guy, his hooded gaze, the soft curve of his mouth that was too aroused to even form a smile. He would have loved to touch that mouth, rub his fingers through his beard, but it was his head pushing forward, his mouth colliding with Derek’s, lips opening at the contact and sucking him in hard. His hands pulled him towards his body from his waist, and Derek’s hand slid to his ass, cupping it and pushing him to his body.

Hunger was there, undeniable, as their bodies rubbed into each other through their clothes, tongues broadly lapping into their mouths, mouths sucking, hands grabbing, rubbing and not letting go. Stiles was the first to make a move forward, hands moving from under Derek’s shirt and sliding up to his shoulders, under his jacket and slowly pushing it off. Derek smiled under his mouth as he let go of him for a moment to help him undress, and then repositioning his hands, one to Stiles’ jaw and the other to his ass, drawing a few soft circles on his tailbone, trailing his hand then lower and lower until his fingers reached under him, the full curve of his butt sitting on the former alpha’s palm.

Stiles took his hands to Derek’s shirt and put them back under grabbing the taut flesh with his fingers before moving up, thumbs pressing circles into his flesh. He would have ducked to follow his fingers with his mouth if the kiss were any less amazing, but he couldn’t will himself to tear it from the incredible sucking of the older guy.

Soon he was bunching up Derek’s shirt under his armpits and it was Derek the one pulling from the kiss slowly, smirking at him and helping him take it off.

“You are not waiting,” he smirked.

Stiles looked at him licking his lips a little. His eyes had already blown dark and shiny, his mouth red and slick, his cheeks heated.

“Do you want me to wait?”

Derek smirked, then let his hand slide from Stiles’ jaw, tease a nipple and continue to the front of his pants, giving it a good tug towards himself. Not another word was needed, and he took his mouth in again, both hands moving to the front and undoing his fly, sticking then one of his hands in and grabbing Stiles’ hard dick. The teen moaned loud in his mouth, hands rushing to undo the wolf’s belt and fly, reaching in, under his boxers and relishing in the feeling of his palm wrapping around the thick, hard cock of the former alpha. Derek reached for his head again, pulling him towards himself while playing with his dick, and licked into his mouth. The bed was close, so he didn’t need to walk them to it, instead with a swift move grabbed the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt and pulled it over his head, ducking fast to capture his mouth again, pressing his newly naked chest to his own as he laid them both on the bed.

Boots toed off clanked on the floor and pants were tugged down and the kiss broken then just long enough to get rid of whatever piece of clothing that hadn’t fallen by its own volition. Their hands traveled hard down their bodies. Derek pulled Stiles with him, rolling them until the human was on top of him. Each of his legs pressed into the mattress at the wolf’s side, giving him plenty of room to fondle his butt. Stiles had his hand down between their bodies, playing with Derek’s cock while he rubbed his own into whateverthere was to rub into. Derek helped using his hand on his ass to push him down against himself, and then pushing his hips into the teen. Their mouths filled with halted groans and moans caused by both the friction and the delicious effort.

“Hands off,” Derek muttered against his mouth.

“Wha-… why?” Stiles whined.

Derek broke the kiss and looked at him significantly, or as significantly as he could muster with Stiles’ hand around his dick. Stiles did that little nervous lip licking thing and reluctantly removed his hand. Derek gave him a satisfied smiled and reached up to kiss him. He moved Stiles around a little on top of him, and then with both hands firmly grabbing each of Stiles’ buttocks, he rolled him hard down in time with his hips rolling up. The kid moaned hard and quickly gave into the frottage, rounding out his ass into Derek’s hands and then rubbing down into him, using his legs, his arms and his back to intensify the feeling.

“Oh… God…” Stiles moaned breaking the kiss without breaking the rhythm of his hips, his body continually undulating over Derek’s while his head fell next to the wolf’s, panting hard, wet mouth open and breathing against his shoulder.

Derek’s head stretched back, eyes closed, lips parted as he gave himself up to the pleasure. His hands tightened wanting the body on top of his like nothing he had ever wanted before. He wanted to have him ride him, see the pale, resilient frame tower over him, firmly seated on his cock and ride it like a cowboy. He wanted to see him stretch up, have every part of his body at his hands’ reach, for him to touch, suck, pull down and kiss at will. One of his hands slid on Stiles’ ass until his fingers touched his entrance and rubbed it. A moan of wanton broke the human’s throat, and he stroked it again. He wanted to be in there again. Stiles rubbed into him harder, sliding higher on him and reaching down to the former alpha’s dick behind him, stroking it before pressing it against his ass.

“I want it, Derek… I want it…”

Derek slowly stilled his moved, his hands sliding up Stiles’ body to his head, holding him and kissing him thoroughly.

“Want it now?” he asked him between kisses

“Yes…” Stiles replied feeling his brain evaporate with need.

“Want it so much?”

“Yes… Derek…”

Derek turned them over until he was on top and kissed him. Then he looked into his eyes, a sexy, lovely smile on his face. He looked between their bodies and Stiles followed his eyes curiously. Derek looked back at him with a kind of smile-smirk he had never seen in the wolf’s face, and yet he knew well. It was the kind of smile that said he had a very, very bad idea, and he couldn’t wait to put it in motion.

“Wh- what are you planning?” he asked, perhaps a little more alarmed than he should have.

Derek lifted his eyebrows suggestively and then leaned to kiss and lick at his neck. Stiles exhaled and threw his head back enjoying the kiss, but as his hand came up to touch the head of the wolf, he was already sliding down, lapping and sucking at his nipples.

“Derek…”

His hand floated aimlessly for a moment before they found Derek’s head and rested there, as he slid from his chest to his ribs, his tummy and then stayed a moment on his navel, liking into it, sucking it, biting little nips around it that would surely leave bruises behind. He found his happy trail and with a shout of pleasure Stiles found out why it was given that name. Derek had by then settled between his legs, armpits against his thighs, hands caressing his tummy and chest, fingers idly playing with the drying, cooling path his saliva had drawn down his body. His nose was buried in his navel as his tongue swirled into the fine hairs of his happy trail, wetting them and pulling them up gently as if combing them. The sensitive skin of his lower belly reacted to his touch, to the way that little strip of hair pointing to his groin was being licked, wetted and then breathe over to make him shiver.

“Derek… Derek… God… Derek…”

He took his time soaking Stiles’ happy trail, licking around and rubbing his nose into it, chancing a tiny bite here and there to make him jump. The younger guy’s cock was already pressing against his jaw, leaking precome, pushing against him as if he were trying to lick him back. He finished the happy trail with a few small pecks before looking at Stiles for a brief moment before taking hold of the base of his dick and take it into his mouth.

“Oh God, Derek!” Stiles shouted throwing his head back and instinctively pushing his hips up.

Derek had to hold his hips down to keep him from forcing him to deep throat and choke.

“Derek… Derek… Derek…” Stiles chanted as he let his hips be pushed back on the bed, as the former alpha suckled on the tip of his dick, rolling his mouth around the head as if it were a lollipop.

The sounds coming from Derek’s mouth on his penis were downright indecent, and the sensation enveloping taking hold of Stiles matched them bit by bit. His mouth watered, his mind was muddled and his fingers tightened into the dark strands of the wolf’s hair, his hips, though pushed against the bed, didn’t give up in their attempt to fuck into Derek’s mouth. The older guy pinned him down effectively, and then set on his task of exploring and scenting the teen’s cock completely. The urgency of Stiles’ moves and whims flattered him in ways he never knew before.

His mouth played first with the head of Stiles’ penis, pressing it a little to feel how spongy, rubbery it was. It’s smell was strong and it’s taste a little tangy, and all together something he found plain fascinating. As he milked the head, he let his mouth salivate, his spit slide down the length of it before bringing his hand up and massage it into the flesh.

“God, Derek!” Stiles shouted and his hips trembled in a clear threat to come any minute.

Derek loosened his hold a little, but kept stroking him, sensing how his own scent was mixing with that of Stiles. He was making him as his, and he wanted that mark to stay burned into the kid’s skin for a long time. His mouth then slid slowly down, making a couple of attempts at swallowing his length, but then pulling his mouth off and sliding it down the sides in what seemed to be a long kiss. Stiles moaned loud and Derek kept the treatment, sliding up and down the sides of his cock, sucking on the head and then swallowing him once or twice, each time reaching lower, before he would start over again, sliding, kissing, sucking and teasing. He changed then the hand that was holding the younger guy’s dick up, and brought the saliva and precome slicked on to his ass, rubbing gently at it. Stiles shout at that was loud enough to pretty much rival Lydia’s banshee screaming.

Amused, Derek slid his mouth off and pressed a hard, biting kiss to the inner side of Stiles’ thigh.

“You may want to keep it low,” he told him.

Stiles could barely reach his own words.

“Does it… bother you?”

Derek pushed up and kissed him.

“I like it, but I don’t think your neighbors would appreciate it.”

The teen went beet red. Derek smiled and kissed him again.

“You’ve lube and condoms?”

Stiles looked at him pointedly.

“You mean to say you came here for this and didn’t come prepared?”

Derek smirked and leaned to peck his mouth.

“Do you or do you not?”

Stiles looked at him, and reached up to kiss him. The kiss was slow and gentle before he pulled away, and pushing the wolf off, stood up on wobbly feet and walked to the commode, where he pulled open the top drawer and searched for a moment. Derek watched him, his pale body reddened at parts, his glistening hard dick poking oddly and away from his body, his hair sticking in every direction.

“Aren’t you worried your father will find your stash?”

Stiles looked at him pulling what seemed to be a flat cigar box from under his t-shirts, and sitting them on top of them. He made a smirk like smile.

“Dad has found so many odd and disturbing things in here, he no longer wishes to open my drawers or come near this room.”

Derek smiled thinking of all the possible things the kid could have hoarded into his room over the years that would make the good Sheriff prefer to stay clear from the premises. While Stiles fished out from the box a tube of KY and a condom, Derek stood up and walked behind him, his hands reaching slowly for his hips, face ducking to his neck, sniffing him slowly. The human closed his eyes and leaned against the broad chest behind him, baring his neck for the wolf. Derek kissed the base of his neck and pressed his hard on against his ass, letting him roll back into it, wish it into his body.

Derek humped his ass a couple of times, reaching to spread Stiles’ ass cheek and drive his cock between them, rubbing and teasing the tight hole. At the feeling, the human kid pushed his body back harder.

“Hn… Derek…”

The werewolf teased him some more, rubbing his cock against his ass while his hands stroke on Stiles’ own hard dick. He let him hear his own ragged breathing, his own soft groans of delight, pressing his mouth and nose behind the kid’s ear. Then he kissed his neck, and down his shoulders sliding lower and lower until he was kneeling behind him. His hands now pressed on each buttock pushed them apart and his tongue licked the path between them, making a circle around the tight hole. Stiles moaned, pushing the drawer close and holding into the edge of the commode to avoid closing it on his own fingers.

“God… Derek…”

The wolf quickly abandoned the length of the path and concentrated only on the inviting ass, lapping at it, licking it, kissing it and pushing it with his tongue time and again until Stiles’ body opened for his mouth, his tongue allowed to push in tightly. The teen’s words became a ragged moan of pleasure ash he rocked his hips back, seeking for more. Derek fucked him slowly with his tongue a couple of times before his mouth slid up to the very edge of his tailbone. There he started kissing and sucking into his skin, letting his mouth salivate copiously and his spit slide down the path between Stiles’ ass cheeks to his hole, where one of his hands was waiting for it to finger fuck it into his body.

Stiles nearly collapsed as two fingers breeched his body at once, the sensation powerful and filling.

“Oh my God! Derek!”

His hips pushed back wanting more. For someone who had claimed not to like fingering his own ass, Stiles had proved unable to have enough of Derek’s fingers inside his body. The older guy kept wetting the edge of his tailbone, fucking him slowly with his fingers, spreading him open, toying with his ass and eventually pushing in three fingers for the human to ride. He then slowly stood up, his fingers pushing in and out of the pliant body before him, laying a bite on the edge of his shoulder blade.

“You like that, don’t you?” he breathed into his ear.

Stiles nodded and licked his lips before replying.

“Yes… I like it…”

“But you’ll behave this time, when I take them out, right?”

Stiles barely nodded. Derek moved his fingers slower but harder and deeper, pushing as far as they would go earning a long, strangled groan from the younger guy. He gave him a couple more of strokes before he took his fingers out slowly, and felt Stiles tense up a little and bite his lips down as he really wanted to ask them back into his body. The condom and the lube were nowhere to be seen, so Derek pushed the drawer open, where he found the box of Romeo y Julieta cigars. The sweet, woody scent of the cigars still clung to the box. God knows where had the kid gotten it. He opened it one handed and retrieved the lube and a condom. He rolled on the condom and coated it well with lube before moving Stiles away from the commode. But instead of taking him to the bed, he took him to the nearest wall, where he pushed him gently face first against it, and then covered him with his body.

“Ever thought of doing it like this?” he muttered sexily into his ear.

Stiles shook his head and licked his lips. Derek slid his slick cock between his ass cheeks and pressed it to his hole.

“Would you like to?”

Stiles nodded vigorously, and Derek pushed in.

“Oh God…!”

Derek kept pressed against him, pushing still as if trying to get even deeper, and kissed his ears and neck, hands caressing the length of his body, rubbing circles into his hips. Every scent, every sound raising from the body of the teen was too great to chance missing them, his moves, the sensation if his tight channel taking him in, squeezing him, too good to be real. He stayed there until he could no longer take it, until his body understood that up to his balls was as far as he would go, that he couldn’t push more into the human. His hands then held into Stiles’ hips and he pressed his mouth to his ear sucking his lobe. His hips moved slowly, the rhythm picking up as they went, Stiles pushing back into him, and him ramming into that hot, tight ass.

Stiles soon lost his words, his breath coming loud and raspy from his chest, his fingers clawing into the wall as he was pounded hard from behind. His whole body felt like being lit on fire, with small vibrations or tremors, as if there were logs in his body breaking under the fire, popping and exploding here and there. Derek licked his cheek, pressed his nose to it and he felt happy and wild, with half his face pressed to the wall, his body trapped, submitted to the power of he whom he recognized deep in his heart as his real alpha, he bared his teeth in a groan, and that felt good. Derek groaned back and licked the corner of his mouth, changing the angle of his thrust, just a little more upwards, and his whole body was washed over by fire, his mouth fell slack and he felt himself gone.

He moaned and threw his head back and Derek kissed his neck. Two more thrusts that way and he would have come against the wallpaper, except that Derek pulled out of him and turned him to kiss him full and hard on the lips.

“I was close…”

“I know…”

Derek kissed him some more before leading him to the bed without letting him go.

“Wanna try and ride me?”

Stiles nodded.

“Wanna try and do anything you want,” the kid replied kissing him. He felt Derek smirk beneath his mouth.

They fell on the bed, Derek on his back, and guided Stiles on top of him, legs at each of his sides.

“Come on, ride me.”

Stiles sat up some and looking between them, grabbed Derek’s cock and looking to press it against his own ass. Derek let him maneuver and get comfortable even though he knew he could do it in one move. The boy slowly lifted his body, tilting a little as his hand held the older guy’s penis to his entrance and slowly pushed down.

“Oh God!”

Derek held his hips, but couldn’t suppress a groan as his dick was swallowed by the tight heat. Stiles fell forward planting his hands on the chest of the wolf and let himself sink in, slowly rocking his hips as if hoping to get some more dick inside. Then, with a little of Derek’s direction and help, he lifted up pushing his body up and forward to then straighten his position and fall back seated again. It felt amazing, but Derek’s groan and eyes rolling back was a reward he had not expected. He did it again, the same way, and earned again a wonderful sound and vision of the former alpha in pleasure. He moved his legs a little to get better leverage, and soon started pumping on Derek’s penis for all he was worth. In a ceaseless motion he lifted his body up and forward, fluently throwing it back a little and slamming down, squeezing his ass as he got down only to immediately lift up. Fuck, he liked to ride the wolf.

He quickly started adding speed to his movements, enjoying the deep rub inside, the teasing of his prostate and how Derek was less and less in control of himself. He sped up set on making him scream, when the older guy turned them over and fucked hard into him. Stiles howled but half of it was quickly silenced with a hot kiss while Derek frantically pumped into him. Their arms closed around each other tight and they came screaming into each other’s mouths.

They recovered slowly, sweaty and sticky, pecking each other gently. In the silence of the moment, Derek took his head in his hands and licked him behind the ears. Stiles relished in the feeling.

“Can I do that too?”

Derek smiled.

“If you want to.”

He reached for Derek’s head and turned it carefully licking and kissing him behind the ears.

“You bare your teeth sometimes,” Derek commented.

Stiles smiled looking past Derek’s shoulder.

“I guess I do.”

“Why you do that?”

He shrug his shoulders.

“I guess sometimes things get very intense,” he tried to explain.

Derek caressed his back gingerly.

“I like it,” he said “makes you look like a wolf.”

Stiles looked at him and kissed him.

“Are you staying tonight?”

Derek smiled against his mouth.

“Haven’t we been together long enough?”

Stiles smiled wider.

“Not nearly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So-Called Fun Fact: Yes, that was it, and that ending was decided today. I do imagined lots of things more, like Derek staying and then hearing the Sheriff coming home, debating whether he should leave or not, but then decides not to leave Stiles. So he stays and listens as the Sheriff comes up and opens Stiles' door. Would you imagine that? The Sheriff finding his son in bed with the werewolf he has arrested a couple of times? What would they say, how would they react? I imagined the Sheriff threatening Derek, that if he hurt Stiles he would hunt him down, and Derek replying that if he ever hurt Stiles, he would handle himself to the Sheriff, which the Sheriff would evidently appreciate and then tell him not to sneak out, he expects him for breakfast. Last scene would have probably been Stiles waking up in bed alone, but as he gets to the kitchen notices the bacon scent and finds Derek and his dad already having breakfast.
> 
> Yes, all nice and good, but it would have open the door for a sequel, too many more chapters and I wouldn't have ended it before season 4, so no. Besides, I like ending fanfics with a line of dialogue that leaves a lot to the imagination.
> 
> Well, I guess this is it. Perhaps we could meet when I publish my next fanfic... which tumblr, where I'm purplefootprint too. If I post again, you'll know from there.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading this fic!


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